


Calculus

by tehkittykat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghosts are the Worst, Gratuitous Critter Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Late Night Conversations, Mental Coercion, Mind Control, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Sorry Not Sorry, Violence, author self-indulgence, work no longer in progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 71,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5852500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehkittykat/pseuds/tehkittykat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calculus is the mathematical study of change.</p>
<p>In which Anakin Skywalker works to foil an evil plot, Captain Phasma gets to play with a lightsaber, Kylo Ren gets a clue, and General Hux realizes that yes, his life <i>can</i> get more melodramatic. Add the Force and stir.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To get this out of the way: There will be some mention of mind-screwing, lots of canon-typical violence, cursing, inappropriate use of the Force, Anakin Skywalker being No Help At All, buried and no-so-buried implications of mass murder and conditioned-response suicide as a method of dealing with human resources problems, human trafficking, etc and so forth. The main characters are bad guys, what do you want?

Hux stared, brooding, into the depths of space. He heard the quiet click of Phasma approaching and stopping the regulation five steps behind, but didn't turn to acknowledge her just yet.

It had been five standard days since Kylo Ren returned to the _Finalizer_ . Five days of eerie quiet, of chilly violence just barely leashed. He should have been happy about it. Nothing had been destroyed in a fit of pique, and better still the quiet doubt that the stormtroopers didn't know he knew about had been all but silenced. The Order was rebuilding. The Republic remained in denial. Soon enough all the petty conflicts would _cease_.

 _Why_ did that thought send claws of ice skittering down his spine?

"Yes, Captain?" he said, before the moment could drag out any longer.

"There's something you should see, sir."

"Certainly."

Phasma did not beat around the bush, and Hux did not ask questions as he spun on his heel and followed her off the bridge.

The damnable thing about it all was that he honestly _missed_ the old Ren. Yes, the other man was a melodramatic git who frequently let his emotions get away from him in displays more suitable for a _child_ , but... there was an undeniable _life_ to him. Hux had been raised in the Order-- they _all_ had. Ren was a fascinating breath of the greater galaxy, even if he _frustrated_ to the point that Hux was not the only one who occasionally had fantasies of choking the man. If Ren was typical of your average galactic citizen, it was a _gift_ that the First Order was bringing them, but...

Ren was not _Ren_ any longer.

It was the only way to put the feeling, the dreaded _intuition_ , into words.

Kylo Ren still stalked the halls of the ship, and stormtroopers still found reasons to turn and walk the other way when he went by. He still had a palpable _aura--_ Hux was far from the only one who could always tell when he entered even a crowded room. Ren still traded veiled barbs about Hux's performance as the leader of the fleet, still preened when the Supreme Leader called to give them direct orders.

Except that stalk was rote, routine. His aura was the ice of death instead of the blaze that always felt like the man was overriding the environmental controls. Most of the crew, not just the troopers, avoided him because it wasn't _safe_ in his presence, not because they simply didn't want to get caught up in a tantrum. And on the memorable occasion that Snoke called... Ren's mask might well have been superfluous. There was none of the barely leashed emotion that usually accompanied their briefings, the constant push-pull feeling that used to drive Hux to absolute _distraction_.

Medical treatment couldn't account for it. And as much as the senior staff made comments about Ren needing mood stabilizers behind his back, that couldn't account for it either. It was as if they'd unloaded a half-delirious Ren from the shuttle and gotten back a poorly programmed _droid_ in return.

"It's in here," Phasma said coolly, as they approached a nondescript door that led, as Hux well knew, to Ren's personal office and its implements. There was a guard posted-- unusual, given that they were in deep space and there was no intelligence that a prisoner was present or forthcoming. They shifted from foot to foot, nervous, and one trooper kept stealing glances at the firmly closed door.

"I'm not sure what to make of it, but I've kept access restricted. Ren is in the training area with orders not to be disturbed, and... well," Phasma said, huffing a sigh as she trailed off. "Maybe you should see for yourself."

She didn't follow him in, parked in front of the door as it hissed shut behind him.

Hux had a very sudden and irrational desire to have a blaster rifle in his hands.

The interrogation room was exactly as it normally was, the computer banks repaired from the last unfortunate incident. Hux skirted the table, as he usually did when he had to visit the place, and proceeded into Ren's office, curious.

There was a translucent blue man sitting on the desk.

He had Darth Vader's helmet-- Hux had learned _more than he ever wanted to_ about that helmet-- sitting in his lap, if one wanted to expand the phrase to account for a somewhat more _literal_ definition of _in_ than usual. And the man was glowing. All the scene really needed was some moaning from beyond the grave and rattling chains to be complete, or perhaps the flames of perdition-- it had been a while since Hux had last seen illicit ghost stories make the rounds.

"Well, I guess you can see me too, then," the man said cheerfully, his expression carefully sardonic even if his _eyes_ were a different story. They were hard eyes, and the scars that rippled across his cheeks reinforced the immediate impression that he had seen too much. His eyes were incongruously set in the face of a young man, if you wanted to discount the scars, one with a mop of sandy hair-- Hux supposed it was sandy, under that glowing blue. And, reaching out from those same illicit ghost stories, the man's dress was reminiscent of the Jedi of old, though his robes were black and much shorter than the Jedi Masters of old wore them, more suited to a fight than negotiations of peace.

If Phasma hadn't brought him here, Hux would have sworn this was simply a rather realistic nightmare. But he trusted _her_ sense of reality more than his _own_ some days, so...

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Master Jedi?" Hux said, desert dryness in the words to cover the corner of his thoughts which up and decided the whole world was mad. It would be dangerous to agree with that corner too much. He had too many things riding on his continued sanity to lose it now.

The blue man-- ghost?-- broke into laughter. It wasn't _that_ funny, and Hux pinched the bridge of his nose, partly to stave off the temptation to turn around and order someone to space the damn helmet and damn the consequences.

"Wouldn't help," the ghost said, as if he had heard Hux's thoughts. Then again, Jedi were said to have that ability. Ren had supposedly done it to the Resistance pilot...

"You have very loud thoughts," the ghost added, interrupting Hux's speculation. "Don't be so surprised that others can hear them when you're practically yelling in your head all the time."

"Did you have something to _say_ , or are you going to attempt witty banter all day?"

The ghost cocked his head to the side, for an instant focusing eerily on Hux, and then shook his head, smiling a little lopsidedly. "I have a lot of things to say, but since I know half of them will sound like a spice-hallucination right now, I guess I'll stick to the important parts.

"You're right. About Ben-- Kylo. About a lot of other things. There's a reason for that, and it's the same reason you can see me."

Hux swallowed. Now this really was starting to feel like a fever-dream, except Phasma was waiting outside, had brought him here.

"I have to give it to Snoke. He has a lot more.. vision than Sidious ever had," the ghost said, a dark expression flitting across his face that made him look, suddenly, much _older_ and much more threatening.

"What is it that you know?" Hux said, finding his voice. The ghost's haunted expression didn't clear, as he made eye contact. The ghost's eyes had turned greenish, as if there was a layer of gold behind the blue. "Don't give me any of that circular bullshit, or any of that oracular nonsense. You've been... _haunting_ my ship and disrupting _my_ crew, and I am not going to stand here and play twenty questions with you."

The ghost laughed once, mirthlessly, though the hard edges softened a little.

"Sorry," he said, even if that _smirk_ said otherwise. "I've had a lot of bad influences."

"You have five minutes," Hux said flatly. He did not need this. Ghosts and mysteriousness and the world turning upside-down every other day...

"Snoke is seeking to rebuild the Empire. The _Sith_ Empire. He will use Kylo Ren to destroy what's left of the Jedi. And then he will found a new Sith Academy and plunge the entire galaxy into an age of darkness and chaos as has never been seen in thousands of years. And he'll manage it, because the Republic hasn't managed to get its collective head out of its ass in all these years and probably never will.

"The Resistance will die before they let that happen, of course. In droves. Snoke might not even bother to use all their deaths to power his work."

"He would need an _army_ of Force users," Hux said derisively, sliding a step back from Ren's desk and the ghost. "And anyone with a working datapad and basic literacy knows that the Sith are chaotic _idiots,_ even if you imagine the old tales are _exaggerated--_ no one sane would _sign on_ to a program to plunge the galaxy into total anarchy!"

The ghost looked at Hux. Hux looked at the ghost. The ghost looked at Hux's feet, which had continued to slowly back away from the desk without him. Hux stared at the melted eyes of Darth Vader's helmet and tried not to see the ghost that was around it.

The ghost. The _ghost_ who was looking at him as if he was a very slow child. The _ghost_ he could _see_.

" _Fuck._ "

"Yeah. Pretty much," the ghost said. He was starting to flicker around the edges.

"Wait! Where do you think you're--"

"Rules of the afterlife. I can only tell you things and be a very bad night-light." The ghost was fading out, though not quickly enough that Hux couldn't make out the look of relief on his face. "But hey. At least now you have a choice."

"That is not reassuring," Hux said, mouth going dry as the ghost disappeared, a low laugh ringing in the air in his wake.

Ghosts, he decided somewhat shakily, were _assholes,_ and he was glad he didn't associate with them.

Hux glared at the helmet. It sat inert on the table-- getting rid of it wouldn't solve any potential haunting problem, he could tell that immediately, but.. he swept it up anyway and stomped out of the office.

Outside, Phasma was speaking quietly with a few of her troopers-- orders to change the watch soon, to report any more suspicious lights or poltergeists immediately up the chain of command. How many had there _been_ ? How many of his people were _seeing_ things? Hux blindly handed the helmet to the nearest-- Dozer, he believed the woman's nickname was.

"Space that as soon as possible, please," he said, pleased to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Sir?" Dozer said, handling the helmet gingerly.

"And have Ren report to my office as soon as he's finished whatever he's doing in the training area," Hux said. "I'll handle him."

"Yes, sir!" Dozer snapped out an almost-salute, waiting only for Phasma's nod of dismissal before she took herself out, the helmet held before her like something that could bite. He could excuse the minor breach of protocol. He wasn't eager to touch the thing either.

"Pass the word on to the third watch supervisors," Phasma told the others, as the small knot of troopers dispersed. Hux watched them go, and watched the guards fidget nervously.

"There was a ghost in there," Hux said, and the words somehow managed to fit into the conversation normally.

"Yes. It doesn't show up on cameras, though," Phasma said, falling into step as he began to walk. Her shoulders had a less stiff cant to them, as if the admission was permissible now.

Maybe they were all mad. But the likelihood that they were _all_ mad...

"Ah. You can cancel the guard. I have a feeling our, ah, passenger isn't likely to be troubled by them one way or another."

Phasma nodded smartly and murmured something into her helmet's communicator. Hux kept walking. He had another five days before his next scheduled communique with the Supreme Leader. The _Finalizer_ wasn't on a strenuous mission-- they'd taken on a number of new troopers along with Ren, and the shiny new personnel needed shaking down before they could be trusted with anything more important than mapping potential new sites for bases. In fact, there were _enough_ shiny new troops that they would likely dither if there was a departure from routine instead of follow through with their conditioning.

 _Conditioning_.

An _army_ of Force sensitives.

"How widespread _is_ our little problem, anyway?" Hux asked, quietly.

"Unusual activity started when Ren came back on board," Phasma said, her low voice sounding a little like a growl thanks to the helmet's distortion. "Reports from all shifts have been working up the chain until I contacted you... though our _guest_ is a recent development. Second shift's droid technicians said they heard yelling in Ren's office, but surveillance had nothing. Ren himself hasn't given any sign of noticing his _visitor_."

"Collate the reports and send them to my office. We had best unravel this before we complete our mission-- can't have the distraction," Hux said, "Keep it discreet. And if our guest appears to anyone else, make sure to get it around that he's to be told to _sod off_."

Phasma nodded smartly, parting company once Hux was at his own door.

The office was normal. Quiet. Blessedly organized. Stars streaked by slowly out the narrow window he had by virtue of proximity to the bridge. Hux made his way to his chair, closing his eyes as he settled into its support. He had too much work to do, and this maddening _distraction_ , these _allegations_ , they were throwing him off. Maybe he was working himself too hard-- he'd been forced to gently correct his officers more than once about running themselves ragged. Private fears finding their way vividly into his thoughts, that was all-- Starkiller Base represented a huge loss. Natural for them _all_ to be jumpy, and it would so be like Ren to take advantage of the situation and use his abilities to fan the flames higher because he was a _prick_.

Snoke had left standing orders, once Ren was placed in his care, that incoming prisoners be tested for midichlorians. Once, a long time ago, they'd been used as a proxy measure for Force talent, a way of screening those whose abilities might still be latent. Anyone with a reading above four digits was supposed to be clapped in specialized restraints and saved for Snoke's personal attentions-- they didn't need any wild talent like that scavenger girl working chaos in the ranks, and Snoke was _always_ looking for new students. Hux had a testing unit-- he had just finished the training module, prelude to scheduling the mandatory training for the rest.

He took it out of his desk drawer, chiding himself as an idiot. He was wasting valuable materiel on a stupid bout of paranoia.

All it needed was a cartridge and a few drops of blood. Just a needle stick to the finger, and the unit could do the rest-- and he'd checked the calibration himself, as part of the module.

Hux sucked at the stinging finger, scowling as the readout flashed a placeholder icon. A few minutes to soothe his suspicions and he was never going to waste his time on this _stupidity_ again--

 _15,000,_ the tiny screen proclaimed.

Hux stared.

" _Fuck,_ " he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

If he ran into the fucking ghost again, Hux was going to strangle him.

Even if it was patently pointless, it might make him _feel_ better. Twenty-four hours hadn't done anything but result in a small fortress of neatly stacked 'plast and a hell of a migraine beating time with his pulse behind one eye.

A quarter of the crew, give or take, had noticed their otherworldly problem and went to the step of actually reporting strange lights, noises, and various small objects going missing. Extrapolate that to the usual suspects who never _saw_ anything... Fully half the crew could be showing signs of... whatever the fuck this meant.

He was _not_ going to entertain the _f-word_ , the _j-word_ , and sure as hell not the _s-word_ because he _did not need_ this in his life.

Also, Ren was continuing to ignore his summons, something something delicate step in the process, something something steal all the portable power cells. If Hux didn't know better, he'd say that Ren was building a new lightsaber, which.. well, on the one hand the man's normal lightsaber always looked about three seconds from exploding spectacularly, but on the other, he'd never been able to get synthesizing the crystals right _before_.

Just another thing to add to the growing pile of _do not want_ that was suddenly populating his desk. The order of the cosmos was not supposed to backflip like this without warning. It was bad enough that a handful of ill-prepared rebels was able to sneak into the base and blow it up, but at least _that_ had historical precedent. This was.. this was just _wrong_.

And he had four days to make sense of all this before Snoke called and asked for a status update. It would be useless to hide his agitation from the Supreme Leader-- for one, he'd never been _good_ at it, and for another Ren would likely rat him out, and for yet another, that corner of his thoughts that gave up on life the other day decided that it would be a very, very bad idea to let on that his worldview had recently been challenged like this. He just needed to find a way to explain all this away, find a system that could support another Starkiller, and lose himself in logistics and personnel transfers and pretend _fucking ghosts_ had never happened.

The office door chimed at about the same time Hux belatedly remembered he had tea steeping. He made a face as he lifted the leaves out of the cup, but no sense wasting the stuff. "Come in!"

"You wanted to see me?" Ren said, the muffling distortion of the helmet making the words a raspy mutter, though without the sulking note that Hux had come to see as normal. The general waved Ren to the office's other chair and leaned back to sip at the vile tea.

He almost spat it back out again, considering that right on Ren's heels was a very familiar, scowling ghost. Hux tore his gaze away, just in time to catch Ren's quizzical head-tilt.

"Whatever you're doing to the crew, cut it out," Hux said, sneering, though at Ren or the ghost he wasn't entirely sure yet. The ghost just smirked loudly at him and perched like a parody of a gargoyle on the weapons locker near the door. Ren just. Sat. Without even a sputtering denial.

"Whatever you think of the newcomers, I don't need operations interrupted by.. whatever it is you think is more important than a summons," Hux continued after a beat. "And if this is some stupid passive-aggressive nonsense about that stupid helmet--"

"No. I should have thanked you for that," Ren said, hardly twitching. "You saved me the trouble of disposing of it."

"What?"

"I believe it was you who told me that we cannot cling to sentiment?" Ren said, finally a little animation in his voice, even if it was smugness.

Hux _had_ , but that was because Ren was the most sentimental bastard to ever live.

"Then maybe you can spare a few minutes from your _business_ to investigate the cause of the incidents," Hux said, catching the thread of the conversation before it could run off. The ghost was making faces at him. It wasn't easy.

"Of course," Ren said, rising without another word. Hux determinedly sipped his tea and swallowed the grimace at its bitterness. It fit his mood, at least.

"I expect a full report," Hux said to Ren's retreating back. He got the barest nod in return, as the other man swept out in a swirl of robes.

For a change, he didn't even get a hem caught in the door, even if Hux had reprogrammed it to close just a _little_ too fast to avoid catching things in the track.

The ghost was right where he'd perched, eyeing the door with something like sadness. Hux sipped his tea, letting jittery nerves resettle. _Why_ Ren unnerved him was still an open question. It wasn't as if he hadn't wished for just this sort of change, but...

"You've always had accurate hunches about people. No sense doubting your instincts now, when they're just waking up," the ghost said. Hux closed his eyes and counted to three. He liked this teacup. It wouldn't be fair to break it on a ghost's insubstantial head.

"Don't you have someone else to haunt?"

"He can't see me. _Yet_. I can spare a few minutes," the ghost said.

"Stop haunting the crew."

"I can't make any promises."

"You can't stop it," Hux said, shaking his head as he let his gaze resettle on the mountain of 'plast. "A dead man can't stop history. _No one_ can."

"And yet I'm already having an effect."

"Oh yes. Disturbing the crew and generating failure reports. So effective."

The ghost snorted, a whisper of the memory of cloth as he moved from the weapons locker to plant himself in the chair Ren had vacated.

"Sometimes all it takes is the realization of possibility."

"What? The possibility of being a terrible night light?"

"Of the way things _could_ go. Of paths not chosen. Of the Force."

"Oh come _on_!" Hux said, setting the cup down gently before he could potentially throw it anyway. He had to stop arguing with figments of his imagination.

"You know I'm not your imagination, or you wouldn't be arguing with me," the ghost said.

"Stop rummaging around in my head!"

"Stop thinking so loudly."

"Do you have a point to hanging around? Or do you just like bothering people?"

"Yes," the ghost said, and the shit eating grin was unfair on a lot of levels. "I was wondering if you gave what I said any thought."

"About your insane theories?" Hux said, though he couldn't quite muster the snort that the question asked for. The Sith Empire, the thousand-year darkness... ghost stories from his childhood, smuggled on datapads and whispered about after dark, at least until he was offered the chance to be an officer, told he was _general_ material. Until he had earned his name, and childhood daydreams turned to more real, more serious pursuits. And yet.

And yet they wasted months tracking down Luke Skywalker, as if one man really _could_ change the course of history. As if the Jedi and all their mystic bullshit _could_ stop the First Order's military machine when they hadn't been able to save _themselves_ from the Republic-turned-Empire. It seemed so vital at the time, when they'd had the power to destroy whole systems from afar, to simply send an arrow of fire like a destroying angel. And now that they were scattered to the four corners of the galaxy, each small fleet regrouping, rebuilding...

After the Supreme Leader had taken the cracked shell of Kylo Ren and scooped out the insides, to replace him with something wholly alien...

Well, taken in a cold, sober light, it did sound uncomfortably like a tale. But what was he supposed to do about that? The galaxy was still in the inept hands of the same government that welcomed Sith and Empire alike through its long history, while at the same time ordinary people struggled and starved and died-- hell, several of his oldest friends had been _sold_ to the Order just to cover expenses! The galaxy desperately needed _something_ different. The First Order was the something different...

Except with that obsession with Skywalker. Except with the Starkiller, which was really no better than a bigger Death Star, and look where _that_ had gotten the Empire of before. Except that they were led by someone tangled up in the Dark Side and all that Force idiocy, the same story repeated again and again and again and _again_ in Core World history until he'd been able to cheat his exams by simply surmising that the Jedi were inept and the Sith killed a lot of people whenever he forgot to study in favor of tactical simulations.

But what the hell was _he_ supposed to do about it? Turn on his family? _Never_.

"One man can't change history," Hux said quietly.

"Well, with that attitude he certainly can't," the ghost said, fading around around the edges again.

"Pick someone else to bother!" Hux yelled to the fading apparition.

There was no phantom laughter this time. Hux settled with his head in his hands, and he tried to massage away the headache pounding behind his eyes. He was alone in the office, the only testament to anything strange his half-finished cup of tea and the incident reports that said no, he wasn't the only one seeing things. He just seemed to be the things' favorite at the moment.

Sitting and thinking wasn't getting him much of anywhere. After a few more breaths, he reached out and hit the comm.

"This is Phasma," she said, audio-only, her voice cool and calm and clipped in a way that helped Hux's breathing slow in its turn.

"Phasma. Come dance with me," he said, "Training room five."

"I was wondering when you'd ask," she said, as he rose to put action to the words. "Loser gets dinner."

"Deal."


	3. Chapter 3

His breath a roar in the confines of the helmet he was wearing, Hux circled restlessly, watching the still figure in the middle of the circle for any hint of her next move.

"You're getting out of shape," Phasma teased, though there was a winded note in her own voice. Hux smirked grimly behind the mask, darting forward for one, two, three testing strikes at Phasma's defense. Left, left, left-- there!

The practice sword thwacked solidly into her arm.

"Point to General Hux," said the training room's custodial droid in its usual monotone. "The score stands twenty-five to twenty-seven."

"Ready to accept your fate yet?" Phasma said as they separated and headed back to starting corners. 

" _ Never _ ."

"Suit yourself," she said, before pausing a half-step in front of the ready position. "Want to see something neat?"

"If you're about to tell me that you're not left-handed I'm going to throw things at you."

"I'm  _ not _ ," Phasma sing-songed, stepping on the starting corner briefly to reset the droid before executing a neat pirouette and  _ leaping  _ for Hux. The bound carried her right across the mat, something that should be almost  _ impossible  _ from a running start--

He shook off the shock and dove out of the way before Phasma's practice sword could hit him in the head. She was laughing, damn her, and the air practically  _ sang  _ devotion at her as she lunged for him again, almost too fast to track.

_ Almost _ . Hux spun into the strike at the last instant, instinct overriding the urge to keep giving ground, scoring a solid blow to her shoulders.

"Point to General Hux. The score stands twenty-six to twenty-seven." 

"What the hell was  _ that _ ?"

Phasma was still chuckling as she pried the helmet off, flush-faced and with her eyes shining in a way he hadn't seen since before they'd taken to space for  _ real _ , years and years ago.

"A sign I need more practice," Phasma said, "Whew. Give me a minute."

He followed her to the bench along the wall, scowling a little, but waited patiently for her to set the equipment to the side and gulp down water. He did the same-- now that he wasn't moving anymore, his arms were starting to feel like jelly. He scowled at the discarded helmet. Maybe he was a little out of shape. Dueling for a half-hour didn't used to tire him out this badly. Command track might have led some of the others to go soft, but  _ he  _ wasn't about to lose his edge to laziness.

"You're just hoping to get out of our bet," Hux said finally, settling next to Phasma as the droid puttered to its alcove, mouse-droids skittering out to clean up behind them now that the game was officially over.

"Nah. It's sourfry night."

"My condolences."

They settled into a companionable silence, broken only by the creak of the leather armor as they stretched out incipient sore spots. How had they not done this sooner? 

War, he remembered, and sighed deeply. All the petty warlords of the Imperial remnant, clinging to their lost glory and unable to give in to a superior opponent gracefully. All the desperate former citizens, their worlds in plundered shambles once the so-called big men were finally taken care of. So many volunteers they'd been awash in them, looking for vengeance against the galaxy that had forgotten them.

"Remember when we used to talk about what we'd do after?" Hux said, leaning back to stare up at the crisscross beams supporting the ceiling lights. 

"You were going to explore past the edge of the galaxy," Phasma said softly. "Once our work was done."

"You were going to be a space pirate. As if anyone would let you."

"I've never been able to imagine peacetime. I think I might just be made for war," Phasma said, and he could feel her shrug. "Might as well keep it interesting."

"What happened to us?" Hux said, to the light or to Phasma he wasn't sure. 

"Maybe we forgot there were possibilities."

Hux snorted, sneering a little at the echo of the ghost's words earlier. Phasma huffed a low laugh.

"Anakin's been talking to you, too," she said, and Hux started. 

"How did you--"

"Ren's the only other person who can get you to make that face. And since Anakin's a  _ prick  _ just like Ren..." she said, and nudged his shoulder.

"Is that his name, then?"

"What, he never told you? Or you never asked?"

"Does it matter? And why  _ us _ ?" Hux winced as the question came out more plaintive than he would have liked.

"Apparently you remind him a lot of someone he used to know," Phasma said. "And if he was going to stomp around in a huff half the day, I figured he could at  _ least  _ give us some information. I guess he's useful to have around. Sometimes. Talked me through that trick earlier."

"What, the jump?"

Phasma nodded, looking at the ceiling herself. "The Resistance strike team put me in a trash compactor.  _ Cute _ , you know? Figures Finn would finally show a pragmatic streak after he switched sides."

"FN-21--"

" _ Finn _ . I think that stunt earned him a proper name, even if it was from the Resistance," Phasma said, nudging Hux again. He growled, but motioned Phasma to continue. 

"I called sanitation, but things being what they were... they cut the power for me but then it was condition red thanks to the attack. There was a maintenance shaft just above the compactor heads, the base was getting ready to explode, and, well... I thought if I was going to die, I might as well die trying, but..." she stopped, frowning, groping after the words. "I  _ needed  _ to get out of there. I remember that taking over my thoughts completely. And after a few false starts, I was out of there. It was like  _ flying _ . Made the last transport just as it was lifting off, right on your ass."

"Desperation--"

"Doesn't make someone run at forty clicks an hour," Phasma said, "Not unless they're a little more than  _ just  _ desperate."

Hux huffed, looking away at the mats on the floor. An army of Force sensitives. Stupid theory, stupid paranoia, stupid  _ ghost _ .

"You believe his little theory, don't you?" he said, still glaring at the mats.

"It makes as much sense as anything else. I don't mind. It's sort of fun."

" _ Fun _ ?!"

"Let's just say I'm starting to see why so many sentient beings were willing to give up most  _ normal  _ fun things to learn how to touch the Force," Phasma said, impish. "And why Garn and Sora were always busy making toy lightsabers, and all the sounds!"

A smile fought with the edges of his lips. The pair had been  _ terrible _ , dueling with anything vaguely stick-like and always making humming and crashing sound effects until someone in the study group finally lost their temper and threw books. It wasn't even always  _ Hux  _ who did it. They'd been terrible fencers besides, always tripping over their feet. He hadn't seen them since their last round of exams, and the choice was put to all to select a specialty. 

Hadn't seen them at all, actually. Neither had been at the boards when the test results were published, and they hadn't been there to jump between his and Phasma's long-running argument about whether or not she should take command track-- she  _ had the scores _ \-- or infantry, like they'd always done. 

Hadn't seen them in years. Nor their names on any of the crew manifests that crossed his desk. 

Hux shivered and pushed to his feet. The training room was suddenly much too cold. 

"I believe I owe you dinner. I think it's sourfry night," he said, summoning a laugh at Phasma's wrinkled nose. She waved off a hand up, following after as they headed to the locker room to stow their equipment. There was something heavy in the quality of their usual silence. He wished he could take back the last several minutes, maybe the whole conversation, just to avoid it. 

"I think he might be right," Phasma said only after they'd changed back to uniforms, hesitating over the gleaming helmet. 

"What does it matter if he is?" Hux said. Maybe Phasma wasn't the only one who'd be picking at dinner tonight.

"I don't know yet," she said, "But I'm glad that I know this much."

"Ignorance is bliss."

"Maybe. But I think I like having possibilities. Maybe you should try  _ that  _ sometime."

Hux snorted, but couldn't resist the faint shudder the word brought to his spine. "I'll see you in an hour. Don't be late," he said, swallowing down the faint taste of acid at the back of his throat. 

"I won't. Watch yourself until then," Phasma said, her wry look disappearing behind the helmet. Her posture straightened as she turned and left in a sweep of her crimson cloak, one of the few splashes of color in the whole Order. Hux waited in the locker room for his face to settle into its usual neutrality, wishing faintly he had his coat from Starkiller Base handy. It was awfully cold, even for a ship in deep space.

Had been since Ren came back on board. Since he started arguing with ghosts, and Phasma started experimenting with  _ possibility _ . Since that godawful blood test and its ridiculous results.

Puzzle pieces he didn't want to deal with. Strays that sat in the box without contributing to the final image. Tomorrow would mark three days until the Supreme Leader's call, and yet the entire situation felt like it was spiraling away, disappearing into something chaotic that he could  _ not  _ see a clear path through.

Ren was the keystone. He was what had  _ changed things _ . Whatever happened between Snoke and Ren, it made the ghost--  _ Anakin--  _ suddenly willing to talk to everyone and no one. Hux knew the ghost was right about one thing. His hunches  _ were  _ usually very reliable. And at the moment, he had a terribly bad feeling about the whole damn thing.


	4. Chapter 4

"That's it. That's all you have for me," Hux said, drumming his fingers impatiently on his desk. The flimsiplast was cleaned up, only a demure datapad and his usual cup of tea to show that he'd been working on paperwork all day. Ren-- sans ghost for a blessed change-- sat across from him, utterly still except for the mocking tilt his helmet acquired.

"I would recommend testing for the entire crew," Ren said calmly, and it took an act of will for Hux to take a slow sip of tea rather than lunge across the desk at the other man. "To ensure this exposure won't impact operations too drastically."

" _ Testing _ will impact operations," Hux said.

"It wouldn't do for everyone to neglect their health," Ren said, his voice a low purr that ran right against the frayed edges of Hux's temper. Radiation poisoning. As if he could actually  _ swallow  _ that crock of shit after the last few days. He'd been over the plans for Starkiller Base enough to see them in his  _ dreams _ . The weapon wasn't  _ capable  _ of emitting anything more dangerous than gamma rays, even in a catastrophic failure condition. And why the hell would it? It was ultimately powered by  _ solar fusion _ .

"I take it you've already inserted yourself into medical's priority queue," Hux said, swiveling away to stare out at the stars instead of at Ren's featureless mask. 

"Naturally. I  _ have  _ heard your frequent rants about  _ efficiency _ ."

"You get to have the pleasure of explaining our mission delay to the Supreme Leader."

"I'm sure he would agree in this case."

"Well, it will be an entertaining holocall, won't it?" Hux said, waving a dismissal at Ren. "Maybe you can see to it everyone gets their annual 'flu shot as well."

Ren rose, looming vulture-like and inhuman for a moment, and swept out. The air lightened the moment the door swished closed, and Hux took a slow, deep breath. He was shaking, the movement betraying itself to his awareness in the sudden clatter of the cup against saucer. Cup was replaced on the desk before it could break, the fine trembling in his hands making it a chancy operation. 

"What the fuck?" he breathed, feeling the shudders creep over his arms and down his back. It brought to mind memories of an old operation, before his promotion to the Starkiller program. A sniper in the dark, hearing blaster bolts whine past and never ever  _ quite  _ knowing when or if the killing shot would land, consigned to creeping through the brush and praying. He'd lost half of his squad before reaching the sniper's position-- it had been coldly satisfying to shoot the bastard in the face. Bloody Imperials.

There was no cliffside here, no research facility. No sunrise coming either, come to think of it.

He really needed to stop with the maudlin thoughts. Let Ren run his stupid diagnostic tests. It would keep him occupied, and seeing Ren's attempt at an explanation was likely to make his own debriefing bearable. Things were settled as well as they could be. Anakin had become a commonplace enough sight over the course of the last few days that incident reports had dwindled to the clumsy few who managed to break things when the ghost snuck up on them. About the only lasting change was that Phasma had acquired a habit of leaping into the rafters during their evening bouts, but he was getting better at predicting where she'd land when she tried it. Let the infantry experiment-- if they could get a material edge against the Resistance, so much the better.

Shivering quieted, Hux finished his tea and signed off on the last shift reports. There were two candidate planetoids with the right mineral composition to host the Starkiller weapon, and they had a few more systems yet to survey. The leisurely pace was plenty of time to finish the shakedown of the new crew, and the last bugs were gone from the last set of drills. A satisfactory end, ghost or no ghost.

He was just about to call it a day when he spotted a silver glint in the chair-- Ren left behind his access key again. 

"If his head wasn't attached..." Hux murmured, reaching for it. His fingertips brushed the cool metal and--

Hissing, something was  _ hissing  _ in the edges of his thoughts, just below the level of words, and he couldn't  _ breathe _ , the air thick and impossible. Shapes like people shuffled by in his awareness, mirages, he couldn't reach or touch them but that didn't matter because  _ nothing  _ mattered, the galaxy was sliding to its heat death and all he was good for was _ helping it along _ . The shapes would go away,  _ everything  _ went away, and  _ this  _ dream was going to end like all the  _ others  _ soon enough--

Hux was on the floor.

The access key was also in the floor, fallen where he must have dropped it.

"Fuck me," he whispered. He hadn't fallen easily-- the headache that had been dogging him all week was back, and a tender lump on the back of his head told him exactly  _ why _ . The key sat accusingly. Its owner was going to want it back-- he couldn't boss around medical's scheduling priorities without the override codes stored on it. 

He was tempted to find something heavy and  _ deal with it _ . Instead he levered himself to his feet. Gloves. He had gloves-- there, in the desk drawer. As stupid as he felt, tugging them on.. his head hurt enough. 

The access key felt like the transparisteel window of a TIE's cockpit, hard on the heels of a recovery from deep space. Hux hesitated a moment and let the key drop back in the chair where he'd found it. Ren could come crying to be let into his office. 

Hux tossed himself out to roam the halls-- surprise inspections were regular enough to be not much of a surprise, and that way he could conceivably avoid Ren for a little longer. It wasn't hard to find the path Ren had taken, either, a faint disturbance in the traffic patterns still evident in the relieved smiles Hux got as he passed by. He took a right where Ren had taken a left, letting his feet have command. 

Anakin could take his possibilities and stuff them up his undead ass.

"You say the nicest things."

And Hux was not going to acknowledge the ghost.

"Psychometry. Ouch."

One would think that with as long as the Jedi and Sith had been fighting each other, one side or the other had figured out how to get rid of annoying ghosts. Thousands of years of conflict and a raft of stupid stories and they hadn't even produced anything  _ useful _ .

"I'm devastated you think that way. I thought we had a perfectly fine working relationship."

Phasma got to leap tall buildings. He just got stuck with the ghosts. Maybe  _ he  _ should have taken the infantry track.

"Oh, what,  _ now  _ you believe me?"

Hux ducked into a quiet room-- one of the interrogation rooms, dimly lit in red but standing pristine and ready just in case-- and rounded on the ghost.

Anakin was robed and hooded this time, looking a great deal more Jedi-like.. or he would have if the hood wasn't obscuring his face. He was also somehow  _ taller--  _ Hux had been able to meet the ghost's eyes earlier, and now he towered by nearly a head, forcing Hux to glare up at him. In the red wash from the emergency lights, he cut a dramatic figure. Almost menacing, if he wasn't also projecting an almost manic air.

"I don't have time for mystic bullshit, and I don't have time for.. whatever the fuck that was. How do I turn it  _ off _ ?" Hux hissed, the ridiculousness enough to keep his voice down despite the closed door.

Anakin sighed, deflating a little bit, and he pushed his hood back. Opened his mouth, closed it, and then rumpled his hair into even more unruly curls than before. 

"You don't turn it off," Anakin finally managed, and Hux couldn't meet his eyes. Not for the depth of.. it wasn't  _ pity _ , precisely, but it was still nothing he wanted from a  _ ghost _ .

"Psychometry is a hard talent to bear," Anakin continued after the silence stretched. "I'm sorry. The best you can do is what you're doing-- wear gloves a lot and try to avoid touching things. You'd have to experiment to figure out its limits-- not a lot of Jedi were able to do it."

"What, not even the great Darth Vader?" Hux said, and he felt more than saw the ghost bristle. 

"Want a sun put out, I was your man.  _ Informational  _ talents.. not really my area. Not really... Maybe if it  _ had  _ been, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"What about Ren?"

"The sleepwalker?" Anakin said, and it was the ghost's turn to find the floor fascinating.

_ Dream-shades, consigned to oblivion. _ Hux shoved the secondhand memory-- if that's what it really was-- away.

" _ You've _ been following him around like a lovesick nerf. What's going on?"

"You probably have a better idea than I do. His shields are like nothing I've ever seen, not even in a natural," Anakin said. 

"You're  _ so  _ helpful."

"The dead just advise the living. I stopped being the chosen one a  _ long  _ time ago."

Hux paced, careful to avoid brushing against Anakin even if he'd watched the man phase through things more than once. Sleepwalker was an apt description. Was that why Ren had ignored the obvious answer to their ghost problem? Or was that a lie, to cover up the real purpose of whatever test Ren wanted run?

They had  _ crates  _ of midichlorian testing units. Salvage from some sub-temple or another that had been raided ages ago-- Jedi field gear was still some of the best make in the galaxy, certainly better than a lot of the shit Imperial surplus they had to make do with until enough industrial worlds were liberated. He knew Snoke was interested in finding other Force-users-- the scavenger girl had rattled him, maybe, with how easily she had been able to defeat Ren. Not that  _ that  _ was a particular surprise-- the man fenced like a child.

That bad feeling from earlier was quick to prod him. The extra pieces fit together, making an image of their own. Snoke was definitely playing a larger game than just the First Order, and the Force, Ren, Skywalker, the scavenger, and the sudden attack of extraordinary abilities aboard the  _ Finalizer  _ were all pieces on the board. The question was which pieces Snoke was prepared to sacrifice in order to  _ win _ .

Hux paused in his pacing, frozen between steps, and then whirled on the storage lockers. They had some luck with that sub-temple, he remembered the favorable report from the quartermaster's office once the salvage was tossed through. There had been a few items whose purpose the Supreme Leader had to explain, and if he remembered right...

The sixth drawer had his prize-- a collar, its electronic locking system primitive by modern standards, but that could be replaced. Worked into the material-- it was too flexible to be metal, but it didn't have the customary supple give of leather-- were glyphs. Supposedly the thing could be used to restrain a Force-user, which if Ren had bothered to  _ brief  _ anyone could have been used to keep the scavenger girl from engineering her escape.

Anakin, it seemed, recognized it. He took a step back when Hux showed him the prize.

"Are you kidding me?" the ghost said, strained, and phased through the chair to get away from the collar. 

"Apparently not," Hux said, pocketing the collar.  _ Insurance--  _ a little modification to the electronics was in order, but otherwise it seemed this was the genuine article.

"You do not want to put yourself in an inhibitor, especially since you're not latent anymore. I've seen them drive Jedi half-insane," Anakin said, apparently remembering he was dead and approaching cautiously. "Look, I can try to walk you through shielding. Meditating. It's kind of a bitch but it does help with getting stuff to behave. This isn't the answer."

Hux considered his answer, tracing the glyphs until his fingers, even through the gloves, started to feel numb. It was like the access key. Phantom-- he was protected from any chemical agent in the material-- but it  _ felt  _ real enough. Maybe if this was going to be a regular feature in his life, he should try the lessons. Mental discipline was an old friend already, and if he  _ did  _ need to use that insurance later... 

A glance at the chrono-- he could spare an hour before he really had to put in an appearance at the mess. Phasma would understand skipping out on their usual duel for something like this.

"Fine. In plain words," Hux said, and followed Anakin to a corner sheltered from any casual glances in the door's viewport. They sat, the ghost insubstantial enough that Hux could still see the chair behind him. 

"The first trick is shutting up your thoughts, so that you have room to let the Force  _ in _ ."


	5. Chapter 5

The witching hour. 

Hux ran his fingers through his hair, mussed and sticking out in all directions, and for once didn't care much about the image he was presenting. There was no-one to see, not in the graveyard quiet of the middle of third shift, when all sane generals would be in their beds. Instead, he sat on his bed with gear strewn all around, tiny tools and sewing kit to hand on the storage locker he used as a bedside table alongside a mug of caff and a small pile of tiny, silver disks. 

He might live to regret the caff in the morning. He wasn't sure yet what to do with the multitude of tracking devices.

All were still on and powered and transmitting-- they had a funny sort of feeling against his bare fingertips now, a brush of cold suspicion, but then he was also  _ looking _ . They'd also been everywhere. His belt, naturally, that was standard. Service pistol,  _ sensibly _ . Boots... Patching up the holes in the soles had been annoying. The hem of his greatcoat... he  _ liked  _ that coat. Three trackers in it still seemed like overkill.

Many of the rank insignia and badges on his uniforms had them, tiny pinpricks, and after a few moments spent dithering he only stripped one uniform of its little spies. The hat... it wasn't cold enough on ship. He wouldn't be needing it. No sense in making more work for himself, not when he was occupied with teasing threads back into place and re-sewing lengths of hem. 

What the hell he was going to do with his usual freight of trackers...

Well. Sense said to at least keep them in a pocket. He could decide what to do-- or  _ whether  _ to do something-- after the meeting with the Supreme Leader later. It was bad enough he was actually  _ acting  _ on a lunatic premonition. He didn't need to be the epicenter of a major protocol breach over it.

Maybe there was something to the stories that painted  _ all  _ those who used the Force as entirely fucking insane.

Hux sat back, leaning against the unadorned metal wall, and sighed as his spine crackled. Maybe he could get some sleep. Formless visions of running for his life weren't  _ unusual  _ fare for his dreams-- he'd done it enough in reality-- but the urgency was new. Urgent enough to have him feeling out for the tracker in his belt, and then... two? three? hours spent running through the rest of his gear.

You might get visions, Anakin had said. Those with a window into the past often see the future too, he'd said. 

If you're lucky, you won't see  _ too much _ future, he'd said. There was a story there. Hux wasn't sure he was up for hearing it yet.

Thinking of the ghost too hard tended to summon him, but for once there weren't any cracks about Hux's paranoia fading into hearing. The shields were maybe holding, assuming Anakin's complaints were based in reality and not the ghost's sense of drama. They felt silly and insubstantial, a low note hummed in the back of his thoughts, like hiding under a blanket to read old tales after lights-out. Something to hold childish faith in.

Whatever. He was doing it. He could worry about getting fantastically drunk and wondering about his life choices later. There. It was even something to look forward to.

The caff was lukewarm and scratchy, filched as it was from the probably-not-regulation machine the night technical crew used. He gave them a little extra room on the ship's computers to play after lights-out, and they didn't ask questions when he cadged a mug of their witch's brew, even if it gave him heart palpitations later. Someone had dumped sweetener directly into the machine too, and it made Hux's teeth hurt a little as he sipped the results.

A flicker of blue. Hux blinked, a definite frission of  _ what-who-here _ brushing against the warm-blanket barriers on his mind. A curious knock on the door? It was fleeting and then gone, as the flicker stabilized a bit, a mirage maybe Hux's own age this time. 

"Can't sleep either?" Anakin said, his voice a little thinner than usual. A whisper in Hux's ear instead of the confident cackling.

"Do you actually need to?" 

"Not really."

"Maybe you can bore me into sleeping," Hux said, rising to stow his gear away. He smoothed down the folds carefully, hanging the tracker-free uniform on the hook on the closet door for the morning, moving items between pockets as he did every night. Pins and needles ran through his hand when he moved the inhibitor, but he resisted the urge to shake out his fingers. 

"I'm sobbing over here, really," Anakin said, bouncing a little even if the narrow bed didn't give with his weight at all. "But Padawan stories.. Hmm."

"Padawan?" Hux said, the strange syllables more than a little awkward.

"Technically I'm breaking  _ so many _ rules right now," Anakin said, "Too old, way too many of you..."

"Self-congratulations just makes me throw things at people," Hux said, returning to his seat and the caff, careful to make sure his legs were stretched out  _ away  _ from his annoying guest.

"That's a fun trick. Telekinesis."

"No, thank you."

Anakin chuckled, his expression turning a little more serious. "It's all right. I'm not looking for an actual Padawan and I wasn't the best Jedi to begin with. Did you know eight was way too old?"

"I was raised in the First Order. I  _ know  _ indoctrination."

"Well,  _ that  _ was more like the fringe benefit."

"Who wants to teach someone who can't tie their own shoes how to use the Force?" Hux said. All right. Anakin at least managed to prod his curiosity. 

"Kids're too stupid to know what  _ can't  _ be done."

"You were such a jaded eight-year-old."

"Nah, I was aware the Force meant the rules were off. A lot of people, though... the Force is an  _ individual  _ experience, as we were both reminded yesterday."

"I think it was the day before, now."

"Whatever. The  _ point  _ is that everyone filters the experience through their own life. Head. Stuff. And all kinds of experiences can inhibit or alter the development of your abilities. Saw it happen to a lot of people-- start off with some crazy high midichlorian count and by the time they were Padawan age they could just barely cheat at cards. Too much acceptance that the rules were the rules. I guess the younger they grab you, the more likely you are to develop... Shared concepts can't hurt either," Anakin said, giving Hux a feline's smile. He huffed and maybe pulled his shields a little tighter. 

"Everything has rules. Just because nobody seems to care what the rules might  _ be  _ doesn't mean they don't exist."

"Don't look at me. Never cared much for philosophy. So what's with the pile of shiny things?"

Hux sighed, swallowing down the gritty stuff at the bottom of the mug. It was almost syrupy sweet, but not quite enough to cover the bitter dregs. He was never going to sleep again at this rate.

"Your crazy is catching."

"You should take it easy on the caffeine. I hear it can make you paranoid."

"It's not paranoia if they're actually after you," Hux shot back. Anakin opened his mouth and closed it on a frown. His eyes had that old hardness again, and he swallowed as if he had a taste of something bitter. Hux used the quiet to lever to his feet and rinse the mug in the tiny 'fresher-- the benefit of rank. The question was, did he want to down another mug of rocket fuel and just power through, or attempt to catch at least an hour of sleep? Neither was optimal, but no sense in  _ regretting  _ it.

Anakin was still sitting where he'd been left, that look of not-pity back in his eyes. 

"You should take care of yourself," the ghost said quietly, moving out of the way without needing to be glared at. Hux eyed him suspiciously. 

"I do take care of myself. Stop being a creep and find someone else to bother."

Anakin laughed, humorlessly, but obligingly made for the door. "You hang out with me. It tends to get people killed. Maybe I'd prefer if things ended differently for a change."

"Stop pretending the galaxy revolves around you," Hux said, stretching out. 

"Wish I could." And with that Anakin was gone, a whisper of blue through the door. Hux slapped the light controls, plunging the room into darkness, and sighed. 


	6. Chapter 6

Kylo Ren was  _ still talking _ . 

Long practice was the only thing stopping Hux from restlessly shifting from foot to foot. The call seemed to be stretching on to eternity-- Ren's monotone speech describing his theory about the sudden spate of hallucinations was in even more detail than his earlier recounting of it in Hux's office. 

What was even worse was that something was nibbling at his shields. It was the best word to describe it, like narcil moths eating at a real blanket. Hux used the monotony to focus inward and shore them up, weaving layers under layers like dressing for a day at Starkiller. Shields could be varied, thick or thin or stiff or pliant, but the persistent nibble didn't seem to care what he created. It was like an annoying buzz right on the edge of hearing, a shrill note that rose over the hum of his protections. If Ren's soliloquy didn't drive him nuts, the nibbling might.

Finally--  _ finally  _ the Supreme Leader waved Ren to silence. Hux tracked the motion, pulling his awareness away from tending to the unruly blanket nest in his head. 

"You have done well, my storm," Snoke said, sitting in his unadorned throne with a pensive air. The hologram tapped his lips, focusing on the middle distance. "This does change the timetable. Hux."

"Sir?" Hux straightened his posture, raking back through the morning reports he'd skimmed. They could drop the survey and be underway in a matter of hours, less if no one wanted to be particular about having a full fighter compliment. Had the Republic managed to rally despite the utter destruction of the Senate? Or was this going to be a strike of opportunity? A fight was just what he needed--  _ combat  _ always boiled the galaxy down to the oldest rule in the book. Kill or be killed. Even if  _ his  _ chance of actually making it to the front were slim, it would be a welcome change of pace.

"The crew. How are your new subordinates integrated?"

"Current drills and simulations are showing no loss of efficiency. The inexperienced are paired off with more veteran personnel, naturally, though the special forces strike teams were consolidated instead. This takes us down to three elite squads instead of five, but the replacements had too much trouble meshing and were placed in their own squads for the time being. Once they've been through some combat Phasma is planning to re-assess and distribute them. We don't want a repeat of Finn."

"Finn?" There was something dangerous in the way Snoke's head tilted, like a lothcat fixing on its prey right before a pounce.

"FN-2187," Hux said, feeling his face heat at the slip. "The rebels gave him the designation."

"Interesting," Snoke said neutrally. Something slick and cold was pressing against Hux's head, not literally, but... he willed a survival blanket into the pile, something  _ waterproof  _ for all it was thin and light. The pressure didn't let up, but at least the chill did. Snoke's eye twitched. Hux looked away, hands tightening their grip on each other behind his back. Beside him Ren shifted, circling behind him, and it took every ounce of self-control to hold  _ still _ .

Snoke sat back, smiling indulgently, "Did I ever tell you how I acquired you, general?"

"No, sir," Hux said, prickles running up and down his spine. What the  _ hells  _ was Ren doing?

"Mmm.. of course you won't have remembered it. You were very small," Snoke said, chuckling to himself. "All alone in the burned out remains of one of the Emperor's private retreats. I thought they'd been defending treasure, the poor fools, but no...  _ you  _ were the most interesting find. Hiding in the kitchen freezer, of all places."

"I'm grateful you found me before I could regret that choice," Hux said neutrally. His fingers twitched, and he had to tamp down the irrational desire to have blaster in hand. He couldn't do anything to a  _ hologram _ , and Ren could block bolts with that ridiculous lightsaber of his. The pressure on his shields was enough to give him a headache, as if his head was resonating in sympathy from the not-a-sound.

"I'm sure you are... Such a pity," Snoke said, shaking his head slowly. "Such a  _ pity  _ things turned out the way they did. I underestimated your worth, general. Maybe I'm getting dotty in my old age. Ah, it happens to the best of us. Kylo."

"Yes, my master?" Ren purred, and Hux couldn't stop the flinch at just how close to his ear that was.

"Go attend to the bridge. I want the  _ Finalizer  _ at rendez-vous with the Second Fleet as soon as possible," Snoke said, "They will have more detailed orders. See to them."

"As you wish," Ren said, stepping into Hux's peripheral vision and bowing to their leader. It was a deep bow, almost a rote maneuver, and the black-cloaked figure swept out without even an attempt at a parting shot. Hux followed his progress as much as he dared, the beginnings of a frown forming before he could quite squash it.

All at once, the pressure on his mind let up. Hux swayed in place, turning the motion into a small bow of his own to cover the lapse. 

"What are my orders, my lord?" he said, daring to look up at the towering hologram. 

Snoke tapped the arm of his throne and sighed deeply before he rose to his feet. Hux had to crane his neck to see him properly, but the image quickly telescoped down to normal height as it approached-- sometimes the Supreme Leader liked to pace. Even then, Snoke loomed over Hux, easily seven feet tall. 

"I have a conundrum, my general. Perhaps you can bend your talent for strategy to it."

"Of course," Hux said, nodding. 

"It has come to my attention that recent events have left one of my people.. flawed," Snoke said, "And not the stormtrooper. It was to be expected a few would break and bolt, and  _ where to  _ does not particularly matter.  _ This  _ is, shall we say, more pernicious. The sort of flaw that often has  _ unpredictable  _ results."

No question that Snoke had noticed the change in Ren. Had he sent his unstable Knight to the  _ Finalizer  _ in hopes of  _ rehabilitating  _ him from whatever had happened at headquarters? Their interactions before Starkiller  _ had  _ fallen into fairly predictable patterns. Maybe the familiarity might have shaken Ren out of it?

"I suppose it would depend on just  _ how  _ unpredictable your problem would be. Chaos  _ can  _ be directed if it's limited," Hux said slowly. Defending Ren wasn't something he imagined doing this time months ago... but the punishment for turning traitor didn't change based on  _ who  _ you were.

"True, true," Snoke said thoughtfully, padding quietly through the audience room as he continued to stroll. "Then again, we are talking about a valuable tool toward the First Order's purpose. There are very few scenarios in which this  _ isn't  _ a setback. Even a change of  _ role  _ would create delays."

"Could this person turn?" 

There was a slanted smile on Snoke's face, one that twisted the scars. Hux had never dared try to find out where the Supreme Leader had gotten them-- they were a constant, from the earliest creche memories he had. After seeing the mess Ren was in... they looked now like they had been inflicted with a lightsaber.

"It's very possible. Perspectives change, more so if one loses sight of one's  _ purpose _ ."

Hux chewed in the inside of his cheek. The intimation... "And take others along for the ride?"

Snoke chuckled lowly. "I'll admit that a certain charisma exists. Such are the dangers of wielding a double-edged blade. One cannot make use of a dull sword."

"A sword is no good if it cripples the hand that holds it," Hux said reluctantly, "If this flaw is as you describe it..."

"Hence my dilemma. There are no easy ways out," Snoke said, "But perhaps I'm having an attack of sentiment. The loss of Starkiller Base may have tempted me into covetousness."

"The loss of the base would be nothing compared to someone who could destabilize the whole Order," Hux said. Add in the Force powers that everyone made such a goddamn big deal about... Well, there were enough examples in history. Snoke nodded slowly, finally stopping his walk where it had begun, though the holographic image kept to its real-world scale.

"Priorities.. yes. Thank you, Hux. I do enjoy our illuminating conversations. I suppose I will miss them."

"Sir?"

"The First Order thanks you for your  _ service _ , 2460-HX."

He was going to say something-- he hadn't been called by his service number in  _ years _ , wasn't sure if this dismissal was a joke or not-- but the only sound he could make was an airless squeak as the pressure returned tenfold, but  _ inside his head _ . 

_ Service _ . It was drilled into him, from the very first. When they were all small, and Snoke would appear via hologram to address the creche, there was always the rote  _ my life and death in your service _ . It was part of the vow, the reaffirmation, before he was finally entrusted with a blaster and a target and a  _ mission  _ despite the fact he was still gangly and unfinished.  _ My life and death in your service _ . When he had earned his name, finally, hearing it for the first time in something besides a furtive whisper like a blessing.  _ My life and death _ ...

Life and  _ death _ .

_ Death _ .

He could taste the familiar sweet-metal of blood, pinprick stars behind his tightly closed eyes and something was very, very wrong but--

_ Death in your _ ...

He  _ did not want to die _ .

The thought was a spark on propellant gel, and scorching heat flashed through his head, cauterizing the part of him that chanted  _ death-death-death _ so loudly there was almost no room for anything else. Sluggish awareness followed that he had the barrel of his blaster pistol in his mouth, jaw aching around the unaccustomed thing. 

Hux recoiled, the fire inside his head kindling higher, flash-burning through the fog on a wave of rising fury, but his arms  _ would not move _ . Trigger discipline was probably the only reason he had the capacity to string thoughts together, his hands spasmodically locked around the grip and aching with the force of it. His head was clearing, slowly, too slowly, the fire catching and smouldering on something not-him. 

His knees gave out as he pushed what little he had after the spark, throwing himself open to the Force with rage and terror in equal measure because  _ he didn't want to die and something was trying to make him _ .

A breath. 

The Force  _ roared  _ in.

The smouldering flame caught and  _ burned  _ stellar-bright, and Hux had just enough energy left to peel the blaster out of his mouth and throw it out of reach before he collapsed completely like a stunned gundark.

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, feeling brittle, as the fire banked and then subsided to a tender little curl of heat. Just enough to warm, a whisper that said  _ get off your ass before someone makes sure of you _ . It took too much effort to push back up to hands and knees, and he stared in glassy incomprehension at the blood on the floor, watched it drip until the realization dawned that his nose was bleeding. He shakily wiped at it, smearing red on his sleeve, and  _ finally  _ his brain kicked over.

Snoke hadn't stuck around to watch. He rarely did-- death was something that should be dispensed clinically. Sadism just dragged one off target, though clearly that didn't preclude the bastard from letting Hux  _ talk him into killing him _ .

Hux gagged on a wave of nausea and panted, trying to push away the feeling. His eyes hurt, the particular sandpapery stabbing that meant at least one burst capillary. He had to move, even if his body was complaining as if he'd run an endurance course. Someone would be in if only to clean up the mess. 

Staggering to his feet, he retrieved the blaster, checking the power cell an automatic. Full clip... and a full clip of stunner bolts. The fire mode stud was locked on lethal,  _ not  _ the normal setting for him aboard ship-- anyone who tried to attack him out of nowhere deserved the chance to answer  _ how  _ and  _ why  _ in detail, after all. He could leave it, but... He  _ hadn't  _ turned traitor. He wouldn't be the one to break faith first. He flicked the blaster back to stunner mode. He'd just have to take his chances and elude any troopers in pursuit. 

Perhaps sentiment was a  _ good  _ thing.

He wiped away another ticklish trickle of blood and left the tracking devices-- sealed in a sample bag that morning, just to make sure he didn't forget or lose any of them-- where he'd thrown the blaster. It would throw the computer off his trail, buy him a few minutes before reports started coming in that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Being sneaky was going to be harder. He felt like shit and probably looked worse. Even if Ren hadn't been sent to make some dramatic announcement on the bridge, a ruffled appearance was going to get noticed.

Maybe there was something he could do about it. Stories were full of Jedi and Sith doing insane things with the Force.. and it  _ felt  _ closer, purring around him like contented feline. Good thing, since his shields, when he thought to check them, were a shredded mess. He rewove them, breathing carefully to keep any possibility of the nosebleed resuming away. The waterproof shield had done something, enough of something to perturb Snoke. Maybe... There were stealth fabrics. They were unpopular since they only worked on a narrow light band and scanners could punch through, but... What the hell. It wouldn't hurt to try.

Hux tried to hold the thought--  _ not-here, not-here _ \-- as he padded to the door, stepping toe-heel to keep his steps as muffled as possible. It swished open right on top of a stormtrooper on regular sweep. Hux froze, every filthy bit of the worst Huttese flashing instantly to mind, but the trooper just.. stopped. Puzzled.

"Huh. Broken door sensor," the trooper said after a few minutes. Hux swallowed, feeling as if his heart just re-started, and slid away, careful to keep a  _ wide  _ berth around the trooper. The door actually stayed open until the trooper walked away. Was he affecting  _ cameras _ ?

He could test it  _ later _ . If he wanted to live, getting the hell out was the first thing. That meant a shuttle, and the more nondescript the better. He could worry about step two after.

There was a bay on this level-- the entire bridge concourse could seal off in event of a breach, and there were emergency shuttles to service it. Hux didn't quite dare run, but he made his way as quickly as possible, plastered to the walls whenever someone approached.

The bay was quiet, disused as it was. The door refused to budge until he finally dropped the layer of  _ not-here _ he had been holding, and then it finally opened on a dimly-lit cave, the bulk of old Imperial-style shuttles more like monuments in the dark. 

"I thought  _ you  _ wouldn't die so easily."

Ren.

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting wasn't a sound that one could forget easily. Red light bloomed in the gloom, painting Kylo Ren where he stood in the shadow of a shuttle. The battered helmet gave nothing away, his familiar hunched stance blocking the entrance ramp. The blade was new. Where the old one had sputtered and danced, this one arced steady, burning a deeper crimson than the other one, and the quillons that had kept the other one from exploding had been left out, unneeded.

"Is this the part where you exposit on all the ways you always hated me?" Hux said, testing and discarding possible paths. Phasma could leap into the rafters-- no doubt Ren could as well, and probably could dash fast enough to rival a speeder with better control. Ren could also block blaster bolts-- holding them in the air was a favorite trick, and there was always the lightsaber.

"You were nothing better than a favorite weapon," Ren said, "What's the point of hating a broken sword?"

"That's really all you've got?" How could someone move faster than a blaster bolt? Sensing the  _ future _ ? Or sensing  _ intention _ ? And could it work the other way?

"You're not going to get a rise out of me. I've left that behind." 

"I suppose it does take one  _ weapon  _ to recognize another." He had the blaster, hadn't let it go. 

"You cannot mock my purpose," Ren said, and all at once Hux felt a shiver of  _ premonition  _ run up his spine. 

"I can mock whatever I damn well please," Hux said, injecting his voice with every bit scorn he could manage. Ren's growl was felt more than heard, and he swung the lightsaber in a threatening arc once, twice. He seemed slow, but then Hux's pulse seemed slow too as he raised his arm and, when the  _ moment  _ came, fired.

Ren caught the stunner bolt right in the chest and went down, light padded armor no match for the electricity that briefly coursed over him. Hux kept the blaster up as he came forward and made sure, prying the helmet off to see that yes, Ren was definitely unresponsive. He also, frankly, looked like death warmed over, enough so that Hux paused with one foot on the entry ramp.

Well, he did have that collar... and he  _ hated  _ leaving a puzzle unsolved. Given the last week, Hux could even almost believe that the universe  _ wanted  _ them together.

With a sigh, he bent to grab Ren's ankle and continue on his way.


	7. Chapter 7

Grimly clutching a gritty mug of cold caff, Hux stared at the lazily spinning map of the galaxy and tried to will his brain into operating. It didn't help that he kept glancing at proximity sensors, waiting for the blip of an approach to appear even if this was the fourth course change he'd stopped to make. He was going to have to set in a real course soon. The shuttle's fuel supply wasn't infinite, and skipping in and out of hyperspace so many times in succession had already started the engines on making the whole shuttle vibrate. This model was never meant for this sort of evasion, or long trips in general-- only the fact that there were only two on board kept the  _ life support _ situation from getting in the way of a clean escape.

A corner of him had started hoping to see the fucking ghost. It was that bad.

Worse was being dead at his own hand, and a whole list of alternatives after that. Hux set the mug down and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, ignoring the spike of pain. It was time to ditch the shuttle. The only question was  _ where--  _ a system on the right balance between likely to have a working replacement ship he could get and nobody willing to call down vengeance for the Hosnian system. Hutt space could get him what he wanted, but the downside was inevitably dealing with the Hutts, and no bet there would be someone willing to sell him to whichever Resistance spies had to be on hand. Homeward to any degree was idiotic, even if he could rattle off a dozen places to dive, fallback positions that were provisioned in anticipation of calamity. Most of the other Rim worlds were holes-- easy to fall down, hard to climb out of, and with no real traffic to speak of as a potential plan B. 

And he was dragging Ren, who was a slow-motion speeder wreck. But, for the foreseeable future, he was  _ Hux's  _ slow-motion speeder wreck and had to be taken into account. The collar would keep any incidences of Force powers in check, and he couldn't really see how Ren could be rendered any  _ more  _ crazy by the inhibitor, but the man was very heavy baggage. Hux knew. He'd had to carry the asshole.

Hux reached out blindly and spun the hologram as his head started to throb. Half the smuggler population was going to be unhelpful-- hitting Maz Kanata's palace burned a lot of bridges with the galaxy's law-optional contingent, almost like a prescient curse from Ren with how fucking stupid that had been. Ship ship ship... The hologram had a halo, oily rainbow colors around the fuzzy image. Two hours of sleep in nearly forty-eight was not a smart idea.

"I can sleep later," he muttered.

"Let me out."

Well. He was wondering when the stunner bolt-- and the side order of sedatives-- would finally wear off.

"No," Hux said, swinging the pilot's chair around so he could see his passenger. The shuttle was close quarters by design, but there was still a mobile medical package with plenty of material to secure a patient against emergency maneuvers. Ren had turned out to need an IV line anyway-- whatever had been going on with Kylo Ren and Snoke, he was dehydrated and a little anemic, and the scanner had bitched about signs of nerve damage from  _ electrical current _ left untreated.

The Knight of Ren was glaring, and in the dim light of the passenger area it was hard to tell with his dark eyes if the pupils were blown or not. Not that he was going anywhere anyway.

"Let me out,  _ General _ ," Ren bit out.

"I handed in my resignation. Or do you make a habit of trying to stab co-workers?" Hux said, leaning back and letting the pilot's chair take his weight. Sith hells, he did not need this now. 

"Hux!" Ren said, flailing against the restraints that held him in the makeshift bunk. The straps groaned but held, designed for worse. "Let me out!"

There was an edge of panic there. Interesting. 

"Oh, this should be good. Why?"

Ren's mouth worked around half a dozen words before he visibly hauled his composure back. "You're Force sensitive."

"I  _ do  _ hear it's catching."

"You need a teacher," he said, and the  _ earnestness  _ of it was  _ hilarious _ . "Really. Stop laughing."

Hux had to lean on the arm of the chair for support as he caught his breath, and then burst into another round of breathless laughter almost immediately as he tried to find something to  _ say  _ to that. 

"I can show you what to do!" Ren said, and the desperate edge was back, emotions fighting their way across his expression in too much of a tangle to figure out. "You always go on about  _ power _ ; I can  _ give  _ you--"

"Why do you think Snoke ordered me killed, Ren?" Hux said, breathing around the exhausted knot of hilarity in his chest. He pushed himself out of the chair to check the medical scanners-- now that Ren was conscious, the IV could come out.

"Take it off!" Ren yowled, thrashing against the restraints and snapping at Hux even though he was nowhere near close enough to bite. The needle and remains of the fluid bag got tossed in a biohazard container. Nothing looked red anymore, but the script on the scanner's readout pane was fuzzy.

"I'm not giving you that kind of advantage," Hux said, pausing to lean against the bulkhead as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Course. He needed a course. Soon. Had to get to hyperspace again and  _ then  _ he could collapse for a few hours.

Ren had a pretty impressive Huttese vocabulary. There were some words in there  _ Hux  _ didn't know. He wove back to his seat, another faint laugh bubbling up. 

"I hate you!" Ren said, favoring Hux with a bloodshot glare. 

"Take a number," Hux said, turning back to the wheeling map of the galaxy. 

Ren subsided into making aggravated bantha noises, testing the restraints if the creaking of the polymers in the bands was an indication. The rainbow aura around the map was actually kind of pretty, stars bright-glowing or faded despite the fact that the display was supposed to present the systems on the map equally. It looked like soap bubbles, or like real stars through an atmosphere. 

"I'm going to enjoy watching him kill you," Ren said, the words mostly growled. 

"You do that."

Ship ship ship. Who the fuck might have a ship?

"Dying Jedi shriek in the Force. I wonder what  _ you'll  _ sound like?"

"Well, I hope you'll survive long enough to find out. I'm sure it'll be of scientific interest," Hux said. Turning the map was getting distracting. The stars left trails.

"What are you talking about?" Ren said, panicky edge singing through loud and clear in his voice. His presence wasn't giving Hux much, actually. It was a weird anomaly-- usually fire or ice swirled around the Knight of Ren, even before Hux had started paying  _ attention _ , but this was almost a non-presence. Did the collar work coming  _ and  _ going? 

_ That  _ might be useful.

"For most mortals, orders come with  _ or die trying _ as a caveat. Hard to believe you couldn't take on a novice who, as you put it, needs a teacher. What is that, two for two?"

"I can still kill you," Ren said, heaving against the restraints. He almost managed to get an elbow under him. Hux reached over to the console beside him, picking up the little transmitter he'd left there a while ago.

"I wouldn't recommend that," he said conversationally, letting the transmitter swing slightly on the length of cord that until recently held his ID tags-- about the only equipment that hadn't turned out to have a tracker in it. He'd spaced them on his first drop out of hyperspace.

Best to make a clean break.

"What is that?" Ren said flatly, eyeing it as if it was a particularly loathsome insect.

"Insurance. If you want that collar off, you're going to have to refrain from killing me. Or letting me get killed. Either case. Otherwise.. well, you won't be able to get that thing off with the  _ latch _ ."

The locking mechanism hadn't taken well to the idea of being removed and replaced, but it was easy enough to toss on a little slag charge. They were made for fucking up locks of all sorts-- on top of the burns Ren was likely to get for setting off the detonator, the lock would be melted shut. Ren wasn't the most technically minded, and Hux made sure to keep the solvent for the glue involved well-hidden.

Ren went pale, stilling, and swallowed convulsively. "I don't believe you."

Hux smiled and peeled a glove off, showing off the bruise in the meat of his palm where he'd injected a medical sensor. Useful things, injectable medical sensors.

"Your meaningless resistance--" Ren said, snarling as Hux pulled the glove back on.

" _ Ours _ , now," Hux said cheerfully, grinning as Ren howled in fury. It didn't have the endurance of his normal tantrums, though, and the Knight subsided into glaring that drifted to Hux's left. "Our meaningless resistance is ditching the shuttle. If you don't want to be transported on a medical board, I suggest you use our travel time to think carefully about your life and your choices."

He slid the cord over his head, the weight of the transmitter settling as if it had always been there. It was a simple switch as far as they went-- broadcast over ancient radio bands rather than hyperspace tight-beam, it shouldn't be subject to ordinary comms jamming, but he would have to be careful of it. It was rude to set off a deadman's switch when not actually dead.

" _ We _ can run as far as we like. It won't make a difference." The way Ren said it gave Hux pause as he reached for the map again. The words were bleak, a fresh shiver of the  _ wrong  _ that had been the problem in the first place.

"It's a big enough galaxy." Not that he had any idea where to go. 

Ren's head thunked back in the bunk pointedly. "You could flee to the armpit of the asshole of the galaxy and it still won't make a difference. It didn't make a difference when the  _ Jedi  _ were the target.

"I am not my master's  _ only  _ apprentice."

Hux snorted softly, reaching out into the rainbow-trails of the map. Well, it was an idea, which was more than  _ he  _ had managed in the last several minutes. The shuttle jumped to hyperspace with a threatening shudder, and Hux had to turn away from the coruscating colors in the viewport before they spiked his headache into intolerable territory.

"You'd better hope to have walking around privileges when we land, then," he said, brushing by to find his own sleep before he collapsed.


	8. Chapter 8

Emergency medkit, ration packs, ration  _ bars _ , water filtration... Hux sighed softly, pausing to rub his eyes. The itchy sting of healing was distracting, but the work needed done. He was tempted to kick Ren out of the copilot's seat and put him to work, but Ren had finally  _ shut the fuck up _ and he was loath to tempt fate in that regard.

Two days was a long damn time to be cramped in a too-small shuttle. It was not big enough. Hux suspected an  _ entire planet _ would not be big enough. They were finally scheduled to drop out of hyperspace in a few hours-- time to pick over and pack supplies. After two days of listening to Ren alternately bitch about how they were both going to die and try to talk Hux into taking off the collar, when he wasn't a  _ useless sulking lump _ , the mindless sorting task was a relief.

It didn't help that he was actually starting to wonder if Anakin had run into problems.. or if he happened to just  _ be  _ some kind of mass hallucination brought on by the  _ Finalizer _ . This was the longest the ghost had been away since the haunting started.

Then again, given how generally  _ off-putting _ Ren had been...

Hux tapped his fingers against the bulkhead, surveying the small pile of gear. There was plenty of food and water, enough to last for a few more weeks without going to short rations. Basic toolkit, and a few ammunition charges for standard blasters. No holdout weapons-- but then anyone evacuating should already have been armed in the first place. Survival shelter, but something had been at the polymer canvas. Whoever had been in charge of inspecting emergency preparations had clearly fucked off instead of doing their job.

On the other hand, the shuttle didn't have any  _ memories  _ stained in it either.

Hux left the supplies spread out in the passenger berth-- he hadn't found a carryall for them yet, and Ren was being ominously quiet.

"Wake up, lazy," Hux said, reaching out to tug the edge of the ragged cloak Ren wore like a badge of honor. He had just a moment to register the rough weave, the crisp edges of burn holes, before  _ darkness  _ reared up and sucked him in--

He can't breathe _he can't_ _breathe_ and Snoke's face leers in with a paternal smile.

"Remember, my storm," Snoke says and the world is fading and going black at the edges. 

"You  _ chose  _ this." And  _ Force  _ it  _ hurts-- _

Hux choked on a breath, reflexes tangled for a dizzying instant. He listed, balance not quite rebooted, and then something hit him from the side and slammed him into the bulkhead.

"What did you see?"

"Wha--"

"What did you  _ see _ ? Tell me!" Ren snarled, forearm braced against Hux's throat as he pressed them both into the bulkhead. There was a  _ hum  _ in the Force, a little like standing next to a power converter, potential energy barely leashed by the inhibitor's containment.

"I see poor impulse control," Hux rasped. He was going to have fresh bruises at this rate, but the pain was at least good for anchoring him in the  _ present _ . Ren's throat worked before he stepped back, actually shaking with repressed fury.

"You had a vision," Ren said slowly, holding himself stiff with artificial calm as Hux brushed by for the pilot's chair. "What did you see?"

"The past," Hux said once he was sure he'd caught his breath, watching Ren flinch at the declaration. He snagged his gloves, which had been left by the map console, and put them on. Maybe he could just  _ never take them off _ .

"You don't know anything," Ren said after silence stretched between them, though to taunt or to reassure himself Hux couldn't tell. Ren wordlessly took the copilot's chair again, leaning back to stare at the swirls of hyperspace, as he had for most of their trip.

"We land in six hours," Hux said, glancing at the chrono. 

"Mm."

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing happened."

"This is the most normal I've seen from you in a month," Hux said, watching the viewport as well. Light danced through the void.

"You're the one holding all the cards. You tell me."

"Why does Snoke call you his storm?" Hux said. It was one of the new variables, one of the details about the new puzzle-image in his life that  _ bothered  _ him. It also apparently struck a nerve, as Ren sneered at empty space.

"I earned  _ my name _ ."

"Congratulations. What is this? Number four?" Hux said dryly, though he felt his lips turning in a frown. There was an almost familiar emphasis on the phrase.

"Three," Ren said, breathing a mirthless laugh. "There's no going back from that one."

"There's no going back from a lot of things," Hux said, straightening his gloves even if there wasn't a seam out of place.

"I have broken all the bonds that hold me back," Ren said, but his smile was more a baring of teeth. "My way forward in the Dark was clear until you decided to interfere. I'll kill you for that."

Hux rolled his eyes at the familiar complaint. "Light this and dark that. Still a broken holorecording."

"For someone who  _ meditates  _ every day, your understanding of the Force is pitiful," Ren said, sneering faintly. "It will be fun watching the Dark Side eat you alive." 

"For someone who likes to  _ stare  _ at me when I do, your belief that I care is entertaining," Hux said, "I thought you were  _ beyond  _ old mysticism."

"The Dark Side.. and the Light..  _ are  _ real," Ren said, shifting so that he could lean in over the arm of his chair. "And you're a bigger  _ idiot  _ than I thought you were, trying to wield the Force with such a  _ lack  _ of understanding."

"The Force is filtered through our expectations," Hux said thoughtfully. That late-night conversation felt like far longer ago than mere days... and a lot more  _ deliberate  _ on Anakin's part, now. Fucking cheating ghost.

"Of  _ course  _ it is, but--"

"What if your  _ dark  _ is just one of them, written large?"

"You have  _ seen  _ the power of the Dark Side," Ren said, though there was an uncertain note in his voice.

"I've seen you cloud minds and pluck thoughts from people's heads. I've seen more than I  _ care  _ to of you throwing things," Hux said. "But the  _ Jedi  _ were all supposed to be able to do the same. I don't doubt there's  _ power  _ in the Force... but imposing  _ ethics  _ on it is as ridiculous as morally condemning a solar flare."

"Feeling  _ guilty  _ about Starkiller?" Ren said, mocking. "That if you ignore the Dark Side you can pretend you're untouched?  _ Virtuous _ ? You're  _ every  _ bit as Dark as I am."

"Oh, certainly," Hux said, smirking at the obvious bait. "But if I'm going to use a rock to brain someone, I'm not going to pretend it was some great  _ moral  _ imperative from the  _ rock _ ."

Ren scowled, and Hux had the distinct impression that if it weren't for the collar, he would be on fire. He felt the smirk widen as Ren looked away first.

"So why leave? If it's all nothing personal to you?" Ren finally asked, quietly. 

Hux sighed and looked back out the viewport. "I suppose it is personal. I'm allergic to dying as if I'm  _ disposable _ ."

"You are."

"So are you."

"Yes," Ren said, and Hux turned to stare at him. "Don't look so shocked."

"Seems like that scavenger took a chunk of your ego with her when she cut your face," Hux said, but he could tell as the words were spoken that his heart wasn't in it. But sometimes obeying the forms was an end in itself. "Not that there isn't plenty left."

"Cute."

They lapsed into silence. The chrono chirped a warning tone-- five hours until they dropped out of hyperspace. Hux got up to finish packing their gear.

"Hux." 

"What?"

"Why?"

"Why what?" Hux said, turning back. Ren was still staring out the window, and likely would until Hux bodily kicked him out of the chair.

"Why all of this. You  _ had  _ the shot."

He breathed out, considering the question for the space of a few heartbeats. It simply felt right, like the dozen other hunches he'd had over the years and followed through. Maybe it was prescience. Maybe it was simply skill at subconscious interpretation of events. Then again, he'd known something was wrong well  _ before  _ meeting Anakin and hearing all his wild theories about Snoke's plans.

"I suppose because if you can't take  _ care  _ of a thing, you don't deserve to hold it," Hux said.

Of course the carryalls were shoved into the back of a storage compartment set at an awkward angle to the ceiling. They were also  _ short  _ three compared to the theoretical number of occupants the shuttle  _ should  _ hold, but it was all right. Getting Ren to carry his share was likely to be a fight as it was. Food and water-- and filtration-- could be split evenly easily enough. He was taking the toolkit, but he gave Ren some of the ammunition to carry. Not that the man had any weapons-- Hux had Ren's lightsaber clipped to his belt. That was another issue.  _ Ren  _ might be able to pass as just another vagrant wanderer, but not even several days' scruff was going to make  _ him  _ look like anything other than what he  _ was  _ while he wore a  _ uniform _ .

He could put the jacket down the disposal when they landed. The rest would just have to be improvised. Hux scratched the beginnings of his beard-- just  _ thinking  _ about it made it itch-- and jumped when Ren ghosted up behind him. 

"Where are we landing?" Ren said, familiar smirk in place, as if the last few days never happened.

"The armpit of the asshole of the galaxy," Hux said, handing Ren the carryall he'd packed, perhaps a little more enthusiastically than strictly necessary, and didn't smile at the breathless huff he got. Much. "Try not to piss off these space pirates too."


	9. Chapter 9

Tatooine was a  _ terrible  _ place.

Hux squinted against the glare, feeling the skin of his cheeks pull. He was going to end up with a hell of a sunburn, even with the protective cream he'd made sure to slather on before they left the shuttle. The heat was all right-- warmth baked right into his bones after the chill of space-- but between the sun, the sand, and the  _ smells  _ of the spaceport... It was jarring, anyway. Despite the open emptiness of the cloudless sky the place felt almost claustrophobic, the chaos of so many words and languages gabbling together echoed in the vivid press of snatched feelings against his shields before he finally thought to reinforce them. 

Really, he could have done with the Force turning out to be a hallucination.

Ren wasn't any help, simply following and  _ looming  _ like a misplaced specter, only  _ he  _ had a hood to hide in. Even less helpful was the pitiful amount of currency he'd been able to extract for the shuttle-- if it weren't a  _ certainty  _ that stormtroopers would be descending on the shipmaster who'd swindled them, Hux would have been tempted to just shoot the fool and have done. The whole fucking planet had clearly not seen construction that wasn't decades out of date since sometime during the last Jedi-Sith War, but finding a replacement ship that  _ hadn't  _ been used as a crash pad for Jawas was going to drive him insane.

Dirt-sucking planet-bound... he hated getting stuck down gravity wells for a reason. 

Midday was approaching, the crowd in the streets thinning out in favor of crowding the many cantinas that littered the spaceport. Hux followed the general direction of the crowd-- no sense wasting time trying to do business that was impossible. Bad enough that this was the delicate part. They needed mobility back, badly, before any potential chasers caught up. He was not optimistic that his getaway had been clean, not with as valuable as a prize as he made off with.

"Stop trying so hard. You look like an undercover bounty hunter. A  _ newbie  _ bounty hunter," Ren said, and Hux didn't need to turn to see the smirk the man was giving him.

A  _ definition  _ of valuable, anyway. 

"I go down, you go down," Hux said mildly, but not even watching Ren pout at the reminder was enough to chase the nervousness that nipped his ankles. He was probably not going to feel better until he had decking under his boots. 

"I'd settle for the tall one to go down." And there was the last thing Hux needed-- a bunch of Gamorreans that the remains of the crowd were studiously ignoring as they scuttled for cover. He-- Hux was mostly sure it was a he, though who  _ knew  _ with Gamorreans-- leered at Ren with avid interest. Ren, meanwhile, actually hissed like an affronted feline, stepping back only to almost run into more of the Gamorreans, six in all. There was laughing all around-- this bunch weren't used to objections, then. Or, at least, effective objections.

"Well, if you're going to be occupied, I'm going to get a drink," Hux said, brushing by the charming individual who had stopped them while Ren sputtered. It was off-script enough that no-one moved to stop him, and indeed Hux actually made it into the shade of an awning before the distinct squeal of Gamorrean in pain reached his ears.

Force or no Force, Ren had laid out one of them quickly, though judging by its uncoordinated twitching, hadn't been able to finish it off. It shook the others out of their complacency-- Hux could see them warily moving to flank Ren, who was busy trying to watch all of them at once while not having the sense to actually push the hood down. They were still too cautious. One tried to grab Ren from behind, only to have the Knight seize his wrist and deliver a blow to the elbow that promptly had it going the wrong way. Another earsplitting squeal rent the air.

_ Then  _ the Gamorreans seemed to realize there were more of them than of Ren.

Hux took the time to drink some of the water he'd been carrying, leaving the carryall in the shade when he was done.

Ren hadn't gone down yet, though he was weaving and one side of his face was going to bruise impressively in the near future. One of the Gamorreans snatched the ratty cloak in one hand, twisting the fabric so that it served as a makeshift noose and pulling until Ren was balanced on his toes.

Hux sighed and waded in, jabbing the nearest Gamorrean in the throat and kicking it in the head as it went down with a suddenly collapsed trachea. He saw Ren slide out of the cloak and kick his opponent, but then he had his own dance partners. 

The big bruiser, who had started the altercation, snarled out something that certainly  _ sounded  _ like swearing and snatched a blaster from his belt. Hux closed with him in three running strides, sliding at the last minute through the dust so that he could slam into the Gamorrean's knee with full momentum. The blaster fell to the sun-baked ground, and Hux snatched it up before other hands could grab it. A check of the power cell-- what kind of  _ drunken idiot _ carried a blaster with a fried power pack?-- and Hux reversed his grip, lashing out with the butt of the blaster and knocking out his new friend.

As the Gamorrean went down, Hux snagged the-- empty, of course-- bandolier it was wearing and dragged it between himself and its ticked-off friends. It bought him the time to roll to his feet, right into the wild swing of the Gamorrean Ren had injured. Hux staggered, winded, but managed to snag the irritating creature's wrist and yank it down so that its snout met his fist. This time it stayed down, stunned, injured arm lying at an unnatural angle.

One left. Ren was having trouble with it-- it had the characteristic drool of a being hopped up on spice, and despite the fact that it was half-hopping on one functional leg it was still coming at Ren. Hux lunged for it, using the blaster to pistol-whip the thing upside the head as Ren whirled and kicked it in the chin. There was a very satisfying  _ crack _ , and the drooling one joined the rest on the dusty ground. 

Ren stared at Hux as he carefully patted himself down to make sure he hadn't managed to crack a rib. There wasn't that peculiar shards-of-glass feeling, but he was probably going to want a coldpack soon to head off swelling. "What?"

"I thought you were getting a drink," Ren said, a little breathless. 

"You're too damn noisy," Hux said, grinning at Ren. "And you let a bunch of idiots step on our gear."

It was true; Ren's pack was more than a little squashed from where Ren had dropped it in the middle of the melee. Survival rations tasted like ass no matter how many pieces they were in, though. Hux went to retrieve his own carryall, wincing as he slung it on his back. Life was starting to stir again, faces peering out of the various cantinas as it became abundantly clear that none of the Gamorreans were going to be getting up anytime soon. 

Hux was about to suggest they  _ go the hell inside now _ when a speeder screamed up, stopping just a few meters short of running right into them. Driving it was a humanoid, though between the bushy black hair everywhere and the driving goggles it was hard to tell much more until the agitated driver peeled the goggles off.

"Th' hell!" the newcomer said, almost falling as he hopped the railing. He was short-- a meter and change and maybe not even that-- and looked to be about as perpetually sunburnt as Hux was starting to feel. 

"Can I help you?" Hux said. Ren seemed distracted admiring the sight of all their victims laid out.

"Should be me with that line! I get a call about the bleedin' Skullcrushers up to tricks again and here they all are! Gift wrapped!" The speeder's driver stumped over and emphatically held out his hand. Hux, somewhat bemused, shook it. "Name's Morfous. I'm what you'd call the sheriff around here, or what stands close enough for one. C'mon back to my office once these're loaded up."

"Why should we?" Ren said, crossing his arms as he peered out of the depths of his hood.

"Well, I didn't think you boys were doin'  _ charity  _ work!" Morfous said, laughing loudly. "Just 'cause most of the seasoned bounty hunters're too good for the job doesn't mean this lot isn't running with a price on their heads."

"Why not?" Hux said softly, which was how he ended up, hours later, with an impressive stack of credits and a place standing in the empty cargo hold of a light freighter. The paperwork involved with the bounty collection had been enough to almost make him homesick, but at least Morfous hadn't been lying about the fees that had been piling up-- or the bonus for leaving something that could stand trial, just to make sure things were on the up-and-up.

Morfous had been good for only one other thing-- news. The Skullcrushers had always been a pain in Mos Espa's collective ass, but when news from the Galactic Senate stopped suddenly, well, it didn't take a  _ genius  _ to figure out that law and order on the Rim was about to take a hit. Rumors told dozens of conflicting accounts of what was actually  _ happening  _ in settled space. The Republic had fallen, the Republic had regrouped on the next scheduled Senate world, the Empire was making a play on the galaxy, the Emperor had somehow fished himself out of the afterlife and was getting revenge on the Senate, the Sith were back, the Jedi were back, one or both groups of Force-users had arranged the whole thing, the First Order was a front for one  _ or more _ power players... The only bright spot, at least as far as Morfous's monologue was concerned, was that Republic credits were still considered legal currency.

Snoke evidently hadn't released the holos of that stupid speech on Starkiller Base yet. Small favors.

Hux had been right. He  _ did  _ feel better with decking under his boots, even if the ship in question wasn't quite spaceworthy.

"You sure you want this one?" Ren said, poking panels in the bulkhead curiously. He'd been prodding things the entire time the shipmaster led them around, muttering too quietly for Hux to hear as he made his own visual inspection.

"It's the only thing we can afford that hasn't been trashed," he said with a sigh. Bounty or no bounty, the shipmasters knew  _ damn  _ well how desperate most of the population was to escape this rock. "The sublights and hyperdrive are both half-stripped, but it was deliberate. If I can acquire the parts, that's easy enough to fix. Repulsors work, so we'd at least be able to fly in atmo, try other scrapyards."

"Would we have the credits? To make the repairs?" Ren actually seemed genuinely curious, but he had been shooting Hux odd looks half the afternoon.

"Spare parts? Not at this asking price. I don't know... I'm not a half-bad newbie bounty hunter," Hux said, smiling at Ren's disgusted look.

"You know we don't have that kind of time."

"Oh, it  _ is  _ we now, is it?" Hux said, and was rewarded when Ren growled at him and swept out the door. Hux followed-- stopping short in surprise when Ren didn't do anything worse than stride up to the shipmaster and start talking in rapid-fire Bocce. The exchange was too fast for Hux to grasp much beyond the numbers, which jumped up and down between the two with no particular rhyme or reason, and the occasional insult.

At length, Ren held out his palm which, after a moment's consideration, the shipmaster slapped with her own.

"Hux, give the nice lady the credits," Ren said, looking smug. Hux would have hit him... but the final price was several thousand credits down from the original, enough that the harder-to-get parts would be somewhere in the range of affordable. Ren hadn't mind-tricked her-- he was still almost a non-point in the Force.

Well. Maybe Ren would actually be useful in this insanity after all.

Hilariously, the  _ ship  _ was easier to ultimately acquire than the bounty that paid for it, and soon enough their packs were loaded and Hux was cautiously taking her up. Mos Espa had been an exciting stop, but no sense in  _ compounding  _ the excitement. Being half a planet away from where they'd left the shuttle seemed prudent.

"Now we're even," Ren said as they cleared the town, apropos of nothing.

"Was it bothering you?" Hux said, stealing a glance. Ren had the copilot's seat, because of course he did, but his eyes were on the controls this time.

"I don't like owing people."

"I didn't think owing people was something that normally impinged on your reality."

"Ass," Ren said, fingers ghosting over the local terrain projection. It was an antique flat-panel screen instead of a hologram, and the display resized wildly when he touched it.

"Pick a fight after we land again," Hux said, huffing a breath. His back was starting to cramp up, centered on where he'd taken that hit, just as he'd feared. "Or better yet, find us a place. Somewhere discreet."

"I know a place." The voice was familiar, cheery, and right in Hux's ear. He jumped, biting down a curse as the cramp stabbed painfully and the ship tried to list off course-- then stabilized faster than he could react. Ren must have turned his controls on.

"Don't fucking  _ do  _ that!" Hux snapped, whirling on the ghost.

"Do what?" both Ren and the ghost said, in eerie stereo. Ren looked at him quizzically as Anakin treated him to a manic smile.

Hux closed his eyes, counted to three, and tried again. 

Nope. Anakin was still there, only Ren's eyes were darting around, nervous.

"I'll tell you later," Hux said to Ren, breathing through the last of the muscle spasm before cautiously taking the controls in hand again.

Anakin, damn him, was laughing quietly. "All right, all right. So here's the coordinates, but I'll warn you, it's the  _ literal  _ middle of nowhere..."


	10. Chapter 10

"Come inside."

"No," Hux said, brushing sand out of a coupling with his fingers so he could inspect the connection. The cable's outer coat was fraying near the plug-- probably furballs chewing on it-- and he taped it up like he had several other cables. He was going to run out of insulator tape at this rate. 

"There aren't any womp rats, raiders, or things that go bump in the night. You said yourself we're going to be tight on affording fuel, and it's  _ cool  _ inside."

"No." He leaned into the hole, wincing as his back complained about the maneuver, and played his handlight over the rest of the rats nest of wiring. The furballs that lived on Tatooine apparently  _ liked  _ being electrocuted, and he made a face as he extracted a mummified one that still had fur on it. He tossed it in the general direction of Ren's voice.

"And you say  _ I'm  _ the immature one."

"You are."

"Come in. I can still  _ drag  _ you."

Hux backed out of the access panel so that he could glare at Ren properly. Ren, who was standing over him like a pissy gargoyle, arms crossed over his chest and scowling as if he couldn't decide if he wanted to be menacing or defensive.

"You can go in there all you want. I'm staying with the ship."

"It'll turn into an oven the second you turn off the life support," Ren said, taking a deep breath. 

"I'll deal," Hux said, reaching for the canteen he'd propped out of the way by the bulkhead. 

"Why don't you like the place?"

Hux snarled a little around the neck of the canteen and took his time drinking. Water loss here was worse than even his long-ago desert survival training, but there had been a vaporator with a full reservoir right near the door to the tiny might-as-well-be-a-hovel. They wouldn't want for water as long as they kept the machine maintained and didn't tarry too long-- whoever had lived here had taken care of the place. Unlike the ship. 

"Will you  _ go away _ if I tell you?" Hux said tiredly after he finished off the canteen.

"Sure. I'll just go walk into the desert. It'll be fun," Ren said, rolling his eyes. "Where the hell will I go?"

"The walls talk. Be glad you can't hear them."

Ren blinked, the admission apparently good for a  _ whole thirty seconds _ of silence. Hux was going to have to remember that.

"You have to reinforce your shields," Ren said, shaking his head.

"I  _ did  _ that."

"Do it again. You only started having visions, what, days ago?" Ren said, warming up to the subject. "It takes a while for an ability to settle into equilibrium, and shields need adjustment during that time. Same for the environment, if this place has strong impressions on it. You know, it'd be  _ easier  _ if I could--"

"Show me. Yes. I  _ am  _ aware. Still a no."

Ren huffed. "Come in. Choke down rations. The wiring isn't going to go anywhere, and working on it at midday is just going to use up the fuel faster."

Hux sighed, shaking the canteen to see if there was anything left. Their gear was in the adobe dwelling, since temperature stability  _ was  _ an issue in the see-saw heat and cold of the desert world. The sunburn from the other day had blossomed spectacularly, as predicted, and it could use another application of burn gel-- the small packets of bacta in the medkits were  _ tempting  _ but needed a  _ real  _ emergency. And, at least  _ sometimes _ , Ren was capable of logic when it came to matters of the Force. He prodded his shields, added another couple of layers, and pushed to his feet. Powering down took only a few moments, though Hux left the proximity alarm  _ on _ . Ren, curse him, smirked the whole way inside.

The hovel's construction ensured that it stayed cool even in the midday heat, even if, despite the shields, there was a palpable air of  _ melancholy  _ to the place. Hux occupied himself with applying gel to his skin, watching out of the corner of his eye while Ren made a mess of the rations. The sealed packets were all uniform shades of gray and green, with a little blue or yellow thrown in there, but the color was largely immaterial. Not that Ren seemed to have  _ realized  _ it yet.

"It's not going to matter," Hux said after watching Ren scatter half of their supplies over the prep counter in the tiny kitchen.

"I didn't ask you," Ren said, finally settling on something that was a particularly ghastly shade of orange. Hux snorted, gently adding more gel to the places that had already turned scaly and itchy again. One more thing to add to their shopping list when the ship was ready to venture back out-- Hux wasn't eager to fly it again until the danger of electrical fire was dealt with. They lapsed into quiet, though the walls had a way of  _ eating  _ small noises. 

"It's later," Ren said once Hux was done ministering to the burns. Hux paused halfway through unwrapping a ration bar from the untidy collection of packets-- if he was going to eat a nutritive sponge, he preferred to keep the experience as short as possible. 

"And?"

"You said you would explain later."

Hux hummed, took a bite, and made a face. Sugary. Ugh.

"You have a ghost following you around," he said. "As I'm sure you're  _ aware  _ considering I asked you to look into it."

"Who?" Ren said, and the paleness of his face as he said it gave Hux pause.

"His name is Anakin," Hux said. "He followed you on board. Hung around that stupid shrine to Darth Vader you built. Picks the worst time to show up and bother you. Like takeoff."

"Anakin Skywalker," Ren said thoughtfully before his face twisted. He laughed shortly, the sound wavering briefly into an almost-sob before setting into quiet bitterness. The blank expression that Hux had  _ felt  _ on the  _ Finalizer  _ but not seen was back, and Ren made a show of picking up the mess.

"What's so important about Anakin-fucking-Skywalker? He was just some famous Jedi, wasn't he?" Hux said, watching Ren warily. Skywalker's career as a Jedi general alongside Obi-Wan Kenobi had been part of the course of study for command track, and even if half of the crazy stories about the man were true, he was one bastard Hux was quietly glad he would never have to face across a battlefield. The only other notable thing about him was his children, General Organa-- who Hux didn't particularly enjoy meeting across a battlefield for  _ similar reasons _ \-- and Luke Skywalker, supposed last of the Jedi. Given their interactions, though, it wasn't much surprise to Hux that Anakin had broken the Jedi Order's vows of celibacy. Anakin seemed to  _ live  _ to be a pain in the ass even while  _ dead _ .

"The call to the Light," Ren said quietly, snarling around the last word. "I don't know why he would bother..."

"He thinks Snoke is going to revive the Sith Empire."

"Ah," Ren said, and he nodded slowly. "That makes more sense. Probably hoping to turn me."

"Is it true?" Hux said. Ren's surprisingly calm acceptance probably didn't bode well.

"My Master's plans? It wouldn't  _ shock  _ me. Trust a  _ Jedi  _ to push someone  _ else  _ over the edge to keep their hands clean. Double when their precious last Master can't defeat a bunch of apprentices," Ren said, fingers brushing the collar for a quiet moment. "At least I'm spared having to hear it for the time being."

Hux frowned as he balled up the wrapper from the ration bar. "I'm not so sure Skywalker was  _ just  _ a Jedi." 

It had been an offhand comment, when Hux tried to needle Anakin back after the ghost informed him he was stuck with psychometry. As if Anakin had been personally stung by his crack at the all-powerful Darth Vader... but Anakin Skywalker was listed as killed in the Jedi Purges, some said in the Temple defending those too young or injured to fight back, some said on Mustafar during a desperate confrontation with Vader afterwards. Not that  _ anything  _ much surrounding the beginning of the Empire could be taken without an entire shaker of salt...

"What, you mean the Chosen One?" Ren said, the bitter thread in his voice gaining heat. "He who would bring Balance to the Force?"

"No, I think he might--"

The proximity alert from the ship blared through Hux's commlink, making them both jump. Ren reached for the lightsaber that wasn't at his belt, while Hux snatched up his blaster and checked the charge. "Stay here."

"Like  _ hell  _ am I--" Ren said, and Hux waved him to quiet as the whine of a speeder-- the heat gave even the quietest a characteristic noise-- could be heard rising and dropping away into power down. They had a guest. 

Ren's lips thinned into a line and he held out his hand for his lightsaber, imperiously. 

On one hand... someone to watch his six was useful. On the other... Hux had the impression that a lot of a lightsaber's utility came from the Force. Whatever. Ren had a vested interest in keeping him alive. If he wanted to get himself shot doing so, he could be Hux's guest. He passed over the hilt, hissing softly to get Ren's attention.

"Stay. Two pulses if you spot anyone trying to flank me," he whispered, waving his commlink under Ren's nose before tucking it in a pocket. 

"Fine," Ren hissed, leaving the lightsaber off as he slipped over to the ladder in the back of the house. The roof doubled as an observation platform. Small favors. 

Hux took the door. The speeder he heard-- a bike model-- was meters off, parked in the shade of the ship. A disturbance in the sand showed the driver had taken off, likely for the side of the place to sneak in under the cover of the rock near their only reliable fucking water source. Cover he couldn't risk shooting. 

Grumbling, Hux cracked open his shields and carefully poked the Force. The house wasn't as bad when he was outside it, and the questing line of awareness brought back something interesting-- greenery and ozone, and the familiarity that only standing back-to-back against the odds could bring.  _ Phasma  _ was on Tatooine.

And, two seconds later,  _ she  _ noticed  _ him _ . He felt the  _ trill  _ of warning across his nerves and rolled as a stunner bolt splashed into the sand. Higher caliber-- she still had a rifle. Instead of backing away, he ran to close with her, where a stunner could splash them both. Risky, but it would give her reason to hesitate on firing at him.

She kicked sand in his face before he even got a decent look at her, and he skidded to a stop just in time to look down the barrel of her rifle. Not that she wasn't getting a similar view-- he had enough sense of where she was to aim without looking.

"Phasma," he said.

"Hux," she said. She was a dark blur against the sky, his eyes watering with the dust in them.

"Nice seeing you again." She took a step to the left, and he followed, keeping her escape route covered.

"Good to know you didn't die," Phasma said, and damn if she was smiling. It was lopsided, and she was more than a little sooty, as if she'd run through a fire recently.

"Did everyone miss me?"

"Some more than others. Are you going to invite me in?" The armor was gone. He didn't have to ask what that meant. It was the first thing they drilled into you, when you earned the right to wear the uniform. 

If you get  _ separated  _ from the fold, ditch anything that could trace you back to the First Order.

"Nice people don't ask with blasters," Hux said, and smiling hurt. Fucking sunburn.

"Who said I was nice people?"

As one, they eased back. Phasma breathed out. Hux brushed his fingers through his hair and winced when the gloves hit the burn. 

"I brought presents," Phasma said. He laughed, breathless, and stepped forward to clasp hands with her. She dragged him in for a brief hug before she let him go with a little push.

Ren greeted them at the door with an ignited lightsaber held at precisely eye-height, ready for the unwary to walk right into.

"Someone's feisty," Phasma said.

"It's all right," Hux said. Ren didn't budge.

"Who sent you?" he growled.

"I did," Phasma said. Ren sneered and looked like he was going to drag things out, and Hux did the expedient thing and ducked inside around the blade. Ren sputtered.

"Are you going to let all of your old cronies just waltz in?" Ren said, and finally let it go, shutting down the lightsaber and clipping it to his belt.

"I put up with you, don't I?" Hux said. Phasma came in last, lugging a field carryall and her rifle. 

"I should be it. If you're here, I'm assuming Anakin already made contact," she said, and she set down her burden before sitting on the ground with a sigh. "I ran in straight from the spaceport."

"So Hux tells me," Ren said sourly, and kicked the door shut for good measure.

"What happened?" Hux asked, joining Phasma on the floor. Ren sat as well, parked between the two of them and the front door.

Phasma sighed, brushing her thumb over a sooty patch on her cheek. It smeared. "We were liquidated."

Hux choked on a breath, his eyes going wide. "Liquidated?" he repeated dumbly.

"Thanks to Ren," Phasma said, and the two of them glared daggers at each other while Hux worked on pulling together his scattered wits. "Those tests he was doing-- I can't confirm it now, but I'm guessing it was a midichlorian count. Apparently jumps in the number are how  _ mortals  _ tell if there's an awakening."

Ren looked at the floor for a breath before defiantly meeting Hux's eyes. "You  _ know  _ why," he said.

Hux's lip curled, but yes. He knew why. He'd walked through the very logic of it himself, all unknowing.

"I suspected it was coming," Phasma said after the silence stretched enough for the walls to nibble on it. "I.. sensed what happened. When you left."

"You did?" Hux said, blinking.

"I knew something was wrong, trying to snuff you out. Maybe you always know, when it's someone important," Phasma said, shrugging. "When you disappeared... Anakin showed up in a panic. You  _ and  _ Kylo Ren had dropped right off the radar, right after Snoke did something-- I don't know, he wasn't that coherent. I couldn't feel Ren, but I could feel  _ you  _ were gone. Elsewhere."

"Force inhibitors were used during the Clone Wars," Ren said, "Once or twice it fooled the Jedi into thinking a prisoner was dead."

"I don't know about Snoke. It fooled Anakin, though. I wasn't originally planning on going after you," Phasma said, "But the Second Fleet took the decision off  _ my  _ hands."

She looked down, and Hux laid a hand on her shoulder. He wasn't sure he could ask.

"You escaped," Ren said, flatly.

"A dozen of us," Phasma said with a nod, covering his hand with hers. "Maybe more-- standard protocol. Scatter and don't tell anyone where you're going over comms. But... Sith  _ hells _ . If that kill command was what he tried to use on you, I understand why you'd throw it all away."

"Insincere thank you?" Hux said, careful to avoid any possible trigger word. Some conditioned commands only worked once. Some very much  _ didn't _ . Something to ask about when the ghost was back-- and damn him for not thinking of it sooner. What  _ else  _ might be lurking in his head?

"Yes. We were gathered for a briefing on the medical issue. Just those of us seeing ghosts, and Mitaka."

"Mitaka?  _ Seriously _ ?" Hux barked a laugh. Lieutenant Mitaka was an excellent slicer, technician, and operations officer, one Hux would have cheerfully traded Ren for in an instant. He also would have said without hesitation that Mitaka had the supernatural ability of a particularly boring rock.

"I don't know. Is supernaturally  _ bad luck  _ a Force power?" Phasma said shakily, "But... Mitaka is my contact point for the others on my shuttle. If we want to join back up, I have a line to him. As long as he lasts, anyway."

"Don't look at  _ me _ ," Ren said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall. "So. Where there was one, there are many."

"Wasn't aware  _ you'd  _ quit," Phasma said, her eyes narrowing.

"At the moment," Ren said, " _ Temporarily _ ."

"He can't kill me or he doesn't get the collar off," Hux supplied, smiling sweetly at Ren's sneer.

"Anakin had to use me to track you," Phasma said, smirking at Ren until he stopped sneering and pouted at the ceiling. 

"Explains why it took so long for him to show up," Hux said, sighing. 

"I brought your kit along with mine," she said, patting the carryall with her free hand. "Cleaned out what solid currency I could, but even after I shared it out, we ought to be able to get passage out of here... Or is that your trash heap outside?"

"Our trash heap," Hux said. "It's not as bad as the paint looks, but you just bought us the parts we need to get it spaceworthy again."

Phasma nodded, swallowing. Hux could feel the echo of her grief, redoubled, as if it resonated with the walls. Devastation. Hushed waiting. He breathed around it, fighting the ice that tried to rime his throat, his own howl of denial that wanted free. There wasn't  _ time _ , not yet. 

They leaned on each other. Ren stared at the ceiling, his throat working against some feeling of his own.

"You're going to kill him," Ren said. It wasn't a question.

"If I can be so lucky," Hux said. 

"There's probably a line," Phasma said. 

Ren's lips twitched into something that might one day be a smile. "The Sith spent a lot of time pursuing immortality. Snoke likely did the same."

"Then we can all take a turn," Hux said.


	11. Chapter 11

The nights were the worst. 

The reality of desert life made furballs of them all-- active only at dawn and dusk, driven inside by the heat or the lack of any useful light at other times. Phasma had dragged Ren out early on to acquire that they needed-- the two of them were the ones who wore masks most of the time, and Hux wasn't the sort to think that a beard was going to make much difference if a manhunt actually got started. Better safe, and having the parts meant he at least had something to occupy himself with. Swearing at the hyperdrive was a poor substitute for what he  _ wanted  _ to be doing, but he could be patient.

Nights were when the walls whispered. It was possibly natural-- dreams for those who could feel the Force were often visions, he was told, when the walls between one's mind and everything else were thinnest. Some of it was just the  _ place _ , memories sunk into every particle of dust that made up the plaster, and no matter how carefully he wrapped himself up, they seeped through into his skin.

It was sometime past the witching hour when Hux finally crawled out of his bedroll and went to the roof, a remembered snarl--  _ Haven't you gotten enough Skywalkers killed? _ \-- nipping his heels.

Anakin, naturally, had fucked off again.

Hux could say one positive thing about Tatooine. The almost complete lack of humidity made for a gorgeous night sky. 

_ I've always thought so, too. _

Hux had his blaster in hand between breaths, senses questing for the source of the voice in his head. The desert was empty, only the soft  _ shush  _ of the dunes moving in the wind and some faint spark of wildlife kilometers distant. Ren and Phasma were sleeping below, Ren the familiar non-presence and Phasma sleeping the sleep of the still-exhausted. He could even feel her spider ivy, which had been given a sunny corner when Phasma tenderly unwrapped the cuttings from the monster that once decorated her quarters. 

_ I don't think shooting me is going to do much good _ , the voice-in-his-head said wryly. 

"Where are you?" Hux hissed. There wasn't a telltale blue glow, and the voice was wholly unfamiliar. Older, male, humanoid probably since there wasn't a particularly noticeable accent on his Basic. Faint, too, as if the words were being shouted down a long corridor.

_ Here. Sorry. Would you mind?  _

"Mind?"

_ Not shielding me out. You're quite the turtle. _

The voice-in-his-head did tickle, like a vibration against parts that shouldn't feel vibration at all. Concentrating on the source of the feeling showed Hux the pattern of his shielding.

"Who are you?" he said softly, not moving a thing. The words buzzed strangely against the shields, like screaming against a soundproof wall.

_ Qui-Gon Jinn, at your service. _

"I've never heard of any Qui-Gon."

_ Not everyone gets to have their face plastered all over the holonet. Anakin asked me to check on you. _

Hux sighed quietly and eased down on the barrier where Jinn's words were. Almost immediately, a faint blue outline of a robed figure faded into being, but compared to Anakin he was indistinct, blurry. Careworn, like an ink drawing that had water spilled over it.

_ Thank you. _

"How are you doing that?"

_ Mindspeech. Luckily, I'm loud. I'm afraid I never did get very good at the lightshow bit, and not for lack of trying. _

Hux grunted and leaned back against the curve of the roof's dome, watching the stars wheel overhead. "Am I going to be playing host to all of the old Jedi?"

_ No. There are only three of us left here. The rest moved on a long time ago, but.. stubborn is as stubborn does, I suppose.  _ The blurry ghost was smiling, eyes twinkling even if his face swam indistinctly between that of a man Hux's age and one more like twice that. It was faintly nauseating. He looked back at the sky.

"Anakin, you useless Force ghost," Hux said softly, but he couldn't summon heat to put to the words. Surprisingly, Jinn laughed, a loud, open sound for all that it was in Hux's head.

_ I guess he had an ulterior motive for asking me over here _ , Jinn sent, amusement still coloring his mindspeech.

Hux felt more than heard Phasma wake, and her tread on the ladder was silent. She blinked between them when she cleared the trapdoor, and settled down next to Hux with a yawn.

"Thought I heard voices," she said, stretching until her back popped.

_ Hello. You must be Lady Phasma. _

"Captain," she said archly as Jinn offered her a parody of a courtly bow.

Captain  _ Phasma. _

"You've checked. I'm sure you can go file your report with ghost command or whatever," Hux said. Phasma was a line of warmth against his side that he hadn't realized he'd missed, coming out here.

_ I was asked to carry a warning, but if you two are that dedicated to insomnia, I'll throw in a lesson for free.  _ Jinn's amusement faded, and the ghost sighed like a breath of breeze.  _ One that might keep both of you alive a lot longer. _

"Let me guess. Sith? Zombies? Zombie Sith?" Phasma said, shaking her head. "We already know we're being hunted, unstoppable army, all of that."

"And we have credits down on when the others start getting  _ sanctioned  _ Force lessons," Hux said dryly.

_ Oh. Sarcasm. You'll fit right in, then. _ Jinn shook his head.  _ No. Your friend was right. The other apprentices are after you, and they won't stop until they deliver him back, one way or another.  _

"Five credits," Hux said, and Phasma snorted on laughter.

"I'll trade you tea next time we hit market."

"Deal." He missed tea. Gritty instant caff from their ration packs might have more caffeine, but it wasn't  _ tea _ .

_ Padawans _ , Jinn said to them both, and the word was suffused with sadness and exasperation in equal measure.

"I'm not your apprentice," Hux said, holding his hand up to forestall any other comments from the ghost.

"That's what it means? It sounds like some stupid Core fashion house," Phasma said.

"When did you hear it?" Hux said, blinking at Phasma.

"Anakin told a few of what he called Padawan stories on the shuttle. What is it with people and blowing up planets?" 

" _ We _ blow up planets."

"We actually blow up tactical objectives. I'm talking frivolously."

_ Nobody had better blow up any more planets. _ Jinn had his head in his hands. _ Force, you two were raised by vornskrs. _

"Yes?" Phasma said. Hux was too busy snickering to reply. 

At length, Jinn managed to compose himself. _ If my warning is going to fall on deaf ears, at least pay attention to the lesson. _

"You have a captive audience, I assure you," Hux said. It was still far from daybreak. Overhead, meteors flared and died. 

_ Padawans you might not be, but bonds are something you two should master, and quickly. There are already precursors for a pairbond in place between you.. I'm guessing long association, _ Jinn told them.  _ There are many other kinds of bond besides that, but all follow the same general principles. Bonds link people together, mind-to-mind, soul-to-soul, to one degree or another. Rarely, the Force drives a bond between participants... and if I were you in that situation, I wouldn't try resisting. _

Jinn paused and shook his head, his mental voice rueful.  _ You may as well pick a fight with a black hole. _

Unlike Anakin, Jinn's description focused on feeling-- emotion and sensation-- rather than the visualization that had confused Hux's lessons on shielding. The ghost led them both into meditation, calm grounding and centering, and then walked them through the mental "handshake" that was the first step in the process. It was like taking Phasma's hand for real, so easy, and Hux started when he felt that tentative contact strengthen. 

_ Oh! _ The new voice-in-his-head was definitely Phasma's, and she prodded the link with thoughtful curiosity.

_ No rummaging around, _ Hux warned, and the thought was met by silent laughter. Phasma's expression didn't change at all from a pleased smile.

_ This is mindspeech. The lightest and most temporary of bondings-- most don't even bother classifying it as such, _ Jinn said.  _ Time and practice will improve both of your skills with it, even if you choose to ignore pairbonding for now. _

_ How would we pairbond?  _ Hux asked, making a face at the odd reverberation of his soundless voice. It wasn't a normal thought, not quite, and the difference left him feeling  _ off _ . Seeing things could almost be dismissed as the product of his overworked psyche. The psychometry, likewise. But this.. this was  _ wholly  _ unreal, and it was entirely coming from  _ him _ . 

_ Take the feeling of connection and anchor it in your center. Then, you will always have a channel to each other's' minds, so long as you both are able to touch the Force. And, if you happen to turtle up again, you won't have to bellow at each other to be heard. Bonds work through ordinary shields, though you can filter the connection specifically as well. Pairbonds are active. You'll have to think about it to use it. _

Hux and Phasma traded a look. He could sense her trepidation across the link, and when he nodded they both dropped the connection like a hot rock. He was alone in his head again, and the place she had just occupied felt oddly empty. 

"Do all Jedi just..  _ invite  _ people in their heads all the time?" Hux said, relieved to hear his actual voice again.

Jinn chuckled.  _ To us, it's not strange. It can be a comfort, really knowing that you're not alone. _

"At least we won't have to worry about compromised comms ever again," Phasma said wryly. "But.. you mentioned other types of bonds? The pairbond isn't it?"

_ No. Standard to working partners and old friends, but far from the only. If you two were proper padawans, you would also have a training bond with your teacher. Some allowed the bond to fade once the apprenticeship was ended, but many kept their bonds for their whole lives. _ Jinn paused.  _ Or a  _ little  _ after, as the case may be. _

_ Training bonds are stronger by nature-- the master must be able to step in if the padawan gets in over their head, and most apprenticeships started young by the rest of the galaxy's standards. Before a student goes through that turtling phase. _

Hux huffed at  _ that  _ sally and then froze. "Ren."

_ The Sith used training bonds too, _ Jinn said, almost blandly.

"Do they work through Force inhibitors?" Phasma said, leaning in as if to grab the ghost, but checking herself from the impulse.

_ No. But they do reassert themselves quickly. _

"Fuck," Hux hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Not that he had  _ planned  _ to let Ren loose anytime soon, but if he did...

_ As I said. Knowing this might keep you two alive,  _ Jinn said, and then he shook his head and stood.  _ As to the answer to your natural next question.. let me have a look around. I'll get back to you. _

Jinn quirked one of those time-bending smiles.  _ Goodnight, my  _ not _ -grand-padawans. _

"What--" Phasma said, but the ghost had disappeared, melting into the darkness. 

"I hate ghosts," Hux said, rubbing his eyes. Stars, and just stars, greeted him when he opened them.

"Me too. Want to be irresponsible with the liquor ration?"

"Yes. Let's."


	12. Chapter 12

Hux opened his eyes and breathed out. Counted to five. Punched in the start-up sequence again, and listened to the hyperdrive cry before it cut out. Again.

"No good?" his commlink said. Phasma, in the pilot's chair.

"No. Send down the diagnostic when you're done," Hux said, thumping his head against the motivator's casing. The last thing, the last  _ fucking  _ thing, keeping them dirtbound. It. Was. Being. Impossible.

"When are you going to stop standing around with your thumb up your ass and fix it?" Ren said from his station, which happened to be perching on the railing around the hyperdrive's pit like a homeless scarecrow and  _ occasionally  _ handing down tools.

"Do something useful and give me the spanner," Hux said, growling under his breath as he pried the casing open. Again. Something was misaligned, but it was stubbornly refusing to show up in diagnostics. Grains of sand somewhere, maybe-- they'd been sweeping sand out for days, and the ship  _ still  _ felt gritty.

"I am not giving you the spanner for the fifth fucking time," Ren said. "Just sense it  _ out  _ already. You're acting like a  _ null. _ "

"What did you call me?" Hux said softly. He turned, watching Ren sneer. Hux had his knives, which blessed, blessed Phasma had rescued from the  _ Finalizer. _ It was a precaution that seemed natural to take, given that they'd been warned twice of pursuit catching up to them. The familiar collection of blades was  _ right there  _ and Ren had a way of going quiet when people made him bleed.

"A null. You may as well  _ be  _ one," Ren said, in full snotty form. "What's the point of having a  _ gift  _ you refuse to use? Or learn? And then you have the  _ gall  _ to drag me down to  _ your  _ level--"

The air sang a clear note, and the engine room's running lights flashed on the narrow blade that zipped by Ren's cheek to embed itself in the wall behind him. Hux flicked a second knife through his fingers. Ren  _ blessedly  _ shut up, his eyes widening almost comically when a thin line of red appeared on his cheek, opposite the scar he'd gotten from the scavenger girl.  _ Huh. _ His aim was off.

_ "You--" _ Ren began, taking two steps and then thinking better of it when Hux hefted his knife to throw.

"Asterica," Phasma said, poking her head into the engine room.

"What?" Hux said, though he didn't take his eyes off Ren for a second. 

"For the wedding," Phasma said, "And an arch of ironwood, that's pretty. Maybe put star asters in Ren's hair."

He scowled when he felt her tap against his shields. 

"Why are you planning a wedding?" Ren said, staring between them. Right. Ren had joined the fleet too late to know the origin of  _ that  _ one.  _ Thankfully.  _ Phasma tapped again, more insistently, and he let her in with a barely audible huff.

"Well, if you're going to  _ flirt  _ like that..." Phasma drawled. In his head, her mental voice was even drier.  _ If you really want to work it out of your systems, I can let you two have the trash heap. _

"Not on the first date, Phasma," Hux said.  _ I would not be opposed to  _ marooning _ him here. _

_ You don't mean that, or you'd never have brought him. I can take babysitting duty, _ Phasma sent.

Ren smeared the blood across his cheek, caught somewhere between stunned and appalled. "He's not my type," Ren said weakly.

"Now you tell me," Hux said, smirking when Ren favored him with a goggle-eyed look.  _ We need to get off this rock. I just need to find what's misaligning the motivator-- _

"I'm not  _ your  _ type," Ren said, though his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Phasma chuckled, earning herself a glare from the Knight.

_ Come at it fresh later. Take a  _ break _ , squad leader. _

Phasma almost never called him that-- he did not play favors with those among his current subordinates who had been in his childhood squadron, though he knew others did. Hux sighed and replaced the knife in his hand in the useful little brace on his arm, under his sleeve.

"I suppose I shall have to pine away. You can find the problem in the hyperdrive, since you're suddenly the expert,  _ Master  _ Ren," Hux said, climbing out of the pit with a wince for his back-- he'd been hunched over too long. The thrown knife came out of the wall without a fuss, and back home it went. He hadn't realized how much he  _ missed  _ the things until he'd started wearing them again, after trading their company for his general's stripes.

"I can find it in a second with--" Ren said, winding up in familiar appeal.

"The spanner. And the diagnostics. It's  _ past  _ time you started getting acquainted with how the  _ other  _ half lives and  _ stopped  _ being baggage. Phasma. Try not to greet me with a mess," Hux said, and felt her approval echo down their connection. There was also a fragment of memory recall, something about Ren and an old woman with pallies in town that was funny, but there and gone again before Hux could process why.

"Right. C'mon Ren. We talked about this," Phasma said sweetly, hopping the rail into the pit.  _ Don't forget to bring the bike back fueled. _

Ren shuffled after her like a man condemned.  _ Just remember. _ Hux sent to her. _ Firevine and ink roses. _

Phasma barked out a laugh and sketched a salute that was  _ decidedly  _ nonregulation. Hux let the connection go, stopping to pick up what was left of their stash of credits before he found the speeder bike and lit off across the dunes.

The Vagaari mission had been something else. Enough so that he had an idea what to do with himself before he was confident that Phasma would consider his break adequate.

Hux stopped briefly in the market-- last chance for fresh resupply before they had a new planet under their feet. Tea, sunblock that could actually deal with the local ultraviolet radiation, speeder fuel, leather polish, ammunition... the normal errands. Then he left the speeder, equipped with a trap net for any idiots who thought it might be a fine idea to lift it, and found himself a bar. Mos Espa made figuring the sweet spot between scummy and crowded difficult-- everything was run down to some degree-- but there was an anonymous enough cantina with bottles that didn't  _ all  _ look to have been home-distilled in old hyperdrive tubing.

A noisy bunch was in the back, crowded around what looked like a sabacc table at a glance. Hux took a stool at the bar instead, though it took two tries to get the bartender to make what he wanted-- it figured drink names drifted.

"Mr. Nonymous! Didn't think ye'd be the type, lad." Morfous. The short humanoid blended in with the bar, not that it was hard given the way he'd made a small fort out of used shot glasses. He was also grinning at Hux with a disturbing gleam in his eye, radiating a sort of muddled affability that felt like it might very well be the mental equivalent of alcohol fumes.

"The type to what?" Hux said, snorting as the self-proclaimed sheriff started stacking the glasses in a pyramid.

"Pegged you for the fancy brandy type, or whisky, not one of  _ them  _ girly things. Hundred credit bottles," Morfous said, waving at the half-finished pyramid vaguely.

_ "Hells _ no," Hux said, picking up his glass. All right, he could see why the local name was first sun-- the citrus in it resembled Tatooine's first sunrise of the day. "If I'm going to drink, I'm going to enjoy the experience and not bankrupt myself in the process."

"Bah. 'S perfectly good liquor out there," Morfous said, grinning. He twirled his goggles around his finger and dropped them. "Tha's kid stuff."

Hux rolled his eyes. "I thought you'd be out fighting crime. Or at least running people down in that land tank of yours."

"Nah. A man can only play whack-a-slug fer so long," Morfous said, sighing longingly. "Sheriff in a town where the economy's based on criminals. Kinda irony that deserves a toast."

"Or a dozen."

"Aye, now you got it," Morfous said, eyeing Hux sideways. "Really. How can you drink that?"

"Order one and find out," Hux said. 

"And you can try one of these!" Morfous said, slapping the table. "Cultural exchange! Best part o' spaceport living!"

Cultural exchange turned out to be fruit smelling, because of course Morfous was a hypocrite, and burned not unpleasantly if sipped slowly. Morfous made the natural rookie mistake of drinking two first suns at a go, and then nearly falling out of his seat when the alcohol hit. The things were half vodka. One would think that watching the bartender  _ make one _ would encourage some measure of common sense.

It was not the worst way to waste an afternoon. Even the looming problem of what the fuck to do with the hyperdrive faded into a pleasant sort of muddle, and Morfous's ridiculous stories of arrests he'd probably made up on the spot were occasionally funny. 

The light streaming into the cantina was taking on the agreeable gold of late afternoon when Morfous slid a datachip across the bar. It clinked against Hux's glass.

"What's this?" he said. He didn't pick it up.

"Tha's a datachip," Morfous said, cackling. "You stick 'er in a reader and--"

"I know what it is. What's on it?" Hux said.

"Charter." The small humanoid was grinning to the point of showing canines that hinted at a carnivorous ancestor somewhere.

"I'm not playing twenty questions with you."

"Bounty huntin' charter. Chartered groups're able to work clear into the Core, and it's a lot easier to do the paperwork after, Mr. Nonymous."

Hux huffed at the ridiculous name. He'd declined to give his own when he'd claimed the bounty on the Skullcrushers, even if it did necessitate several extra forms. Paperwork he could do with his eyes closed. Anonymity was a more precious commodity.

"Why would I want a Republic charter?"

"We-ell..." Morfous said, peering into his half-empty glass. "Pays a hell of a lot better'n fugitive from the First Order."

Between breaths, Hux moved. The buzz along his nerves wasn't enough to dull his reflexes any more than moderate sleep deprivation might. He wrapped his arm around Morfous's neck and flicked a knife out of his brace, holding it carefully just in front of his former drinking companion's eye-- a breath too far out of turn and things would be.. messy.

"Oh-ho, right again," Morfous said with a chuckle, not nearly as inebriated sounding as he'd been a second ago. "I love a good bit of mystery solving, meself, but unless yer about to make me a proposal of the indecent sort you might wanna be backin' off soon."

"What would a pickled paper-pusher know about the First Order?" Hux purred.

"Lad, this ain't the  _ Core. _ Shit comin' out of the Unknown Regions splatters on the Rim  _ first  _ most o' the time," Morfous said. "An' after the job you lot did at Maz's place..."

Hux tightened his arm, earning a wheeze. The knife didn't waver.

"All right,  _ all right. _ Y'learned my secret. I'm a  _ sentimental  _ bastard," Morfous said. "Seen too many kids like you, chewed up in th' machine they were."

"I'm not a--"

"Yer a damn  _ kid," _ Morfous said, disgusted, and picked up what was left of his drink. "Seen  _ plenty  _ like you. Oh, ye  _ look  _ grown enough, but a  _ war's _ not a  _ life." _

Blinking, Hux eased away, tucking the knife into his boot sheath alongside the standard-issue one. Morfous nodded solemnly, threw back the dregs, and continued. "M'clan did logistics in the Clone Wars. Some data-dredgin'. My specialty. Ancient history to most o' these numb-skulls. Made friends with a lot o' the troops that way. Got out before th'end-- transfer to Judicial. What a  _ fuckin' _ joke. 

"Bad enough what they did t'make their Grand Army. Sendin' fuckin' ten year olds into battle. Orderin' up  _ people  _ like  _ droids. _ Even some o' the damn  _ Jedi  _ treated 'em like droids 'stead o' people, and ye'd think  _ they'd _ know better. Meat clankers.  _ Hah. _ Chipped up and programmed, too-- thank th' Force I wasn't there to  _ see  _ Sixty-Six, but I saw enough o' the bodies after. People killin' themselves because they were puppeted into turnin' traitor-- got my own pink slip after investigatin' one too many o' them. Lucky it wasn't a shot to the head. Stays with a man, though. Watchin' people get ground up like that, and most of 'em  _ happy  _ t' bleed an' die 'fore it's their turn for a friendly fire incident." 

Morfous shook his head mournfully. After a moment, Hux slid his barely-touched last order over. Morfous downed half of it.

"What's that got to do with me?"

"Y'have the same look. Float through a brawl with a buncha Gamorreans like it's a nap, stare at a street market like you ain't seen one. Been rumors along the Rim for  _ years  _ someone's been stealin' kids.  _ Double  _ fer kids that were a bit spooky. Don't take a  _ genius  _ to put together two an' two, and enough shit's blown up the last few months t' figure  _ somebody's _ made moves.

"Bright side is, yer out. Con-fuckin'-grats. Yer a  _ real  _ boy, now."

"I didn't have much choice," Hux said quietly.

"Hah. A  _ choice  _ is all a man's ever really got. Ain't no shame in makin' 'em. Even if you fuck half of 'em up, least they're  _ yours." _

Hux leaned his elbows on the bar and picked up the datachip. "You must have been an inspiring speaker."

"If'n I could mince words, I wouldn't be picklin' meself  _ here." _

"You picked this rock," Hux said. Morfous punched him in the arm, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Take the damn chip and get  _ off  _ my rock," Morfous said. "An' if you get in any trouble,  _ we  _ never met. Sentimentality ain't everythin'. Clear?"

"Clear." 

Hux slapped a credit chit down, enough to cover his share of the afternoon, and pocketed the datachip. The speeder was unmolested, which saved him the effort of disposing of a body.

At the ship, Phasma had coaxed Ren into sparring with her if the sounds coming from the larger of the two cargo holds was an indication. Hux left their shopping in the smaller and went back to the hyperdrive with a can of compressed air.

The casings were all still open, lights still dialed up as if a visual confirmation could find the minute misalignment. Sometimes these things were just factory flaws, and nothing short of a new motivator could deal with the problem, but no. This ship had history outside of the shifting sands-- echoes of tension, nothing clearer, but it had  _ flown. _ He could coax it into flying again. 

"We are never telling Ren," Hux whispered to the hyperdrive, and closed his eyes. The Force was there, always, and always eager to shove things into his head where he didn't want them. Only fair to turn the equation around, shape the question into a thought and into will.  _ Where was the malfunction? _

Grains of sand, quartz crystals, in among the larger focusing array. Not misaligned at all-- just that each grain was clear enough to serve as a crude prism, distorting things that absolutely should not be distorted and slamming on the safety shutdown each time they tried to power it up. The drive almost whimpered where the damage was-- the misaligned energy had put long scores of scorch marks in places, though that was blessedly cosmetic. 

Hux attacked the focusing crystals with the air, twisting and climbing half-into the motivator to clear them all. Sand hissed out and onto the floor. He emptied the can of air just to be sure, chasing down other faint signals where the grit was close to spilling into joints and bearings, or mixing into the lubricant that kept the arrays moving smoothly. When he was done, there was a small pile of sand, bone-white, under the hyperdrive motivator.

With the Force still humming pleasantly in his head, he located a dustpan and swept it up. The drive  _ felt  _ right, so he replaced the casings, spending a second can of air shooing bits of sand out of the corners. It was surprisingly easy to feel out what belonged and what didn't, and when the task was done it took only moments to punch in the start-up sequence. 

The hyperdrive sang out a shrill note and then quieted into a hum, the sort of hum that always played a subliminal counterpoint to a ship's operations. The decking vibrated, resonating with the drive, as if the ship's heart was beating again. 

Hux sighed deeply, smiling genuinely for the first time in days, and thumbed on his commlink. Might as well let Ren hear, too.

"We have our wings back," he said.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, just cleaning up tags. Upped the rating because I do write fuck a lot, don't I?

Hux growled under his breath, trailing his bare fingers over the walls. The memory impressions-- so fucking many terrible jokes-- had at least dulled to a sort of mental white noise, but he wasn't any closer to his goal.

"Are you sure this is in here?" he said to the faint apparition floating nearby.

 _Positive. And you do need them, so don't even start,_ Jinn said, sighing deeply.

"You could have picked a better day for this."

_I have been told many times my sense of timing is terrible._

Hux snorted softly, pushing aside another irreverent memory fragment, something about snakes. They were finally ready to depart, and then naturally Jinn had to show up and insist that he go back in the hovel after lightsaber crystals that conveniently happened to have been hidden in the walls. To say he didn't like the delay was an understatement, but the argument in favor of having another lightsaber that _wasn't Ren's_ on-hand was a bit more persuasive.

They'd split the pre-flight chores, Phasma restlessly taking the cockpit before Ren could even begin to ask. She was tense, waiting for something, monosyllabic in the way she got before an engagement.

And Hux was on a snipe hunt.

The mud walls from one stretch to another chattered, distorted impressions folding over each other. He was nearly out of wall, fingers smoothing over the nook near what passed for the dining table, when there was a distinct _absence_ under his hands.

"Sith hells," Hux muttered.

_Told you._

"Shut up."

The wall felt whole, but unlike practically every other surface it didn't radiate random impressions at him. So the ghost had been right. Force illusion _was_ fairly impressive in person. He didn't precisely have time to stand and appreciate it, so cautiously Hux pressed forward. The illusion resisted him, threatening to jam his finger joints together, before crumbling and letting him feel around the small, hidden nook. There was a silk bag in there, which was easy enough to extract now that the illusion had been broken. Hux didn't _need_ to open it to feel the green kyber crystals within. They sang to him, and apropos of nothing he thought of Phasma, streaked liberally with mud and laughing her head off as they stood in the bombed-out remains of what _had_ been an enemy emplacement... and bombing run that had very nearly hit _them._

"These aren't for me," he said quietly, rolling the slight weight of the stones in his palm.

 _Oh? So sure, are you?_ Jinn said, smiling in some private amusement at the words.

"Yes," Hux said, tucking the bag in a pocket before gratefully pulling his gloves back on. "Sorry for ruining your fantasies of seeing me swinging around one of your ridiculous light-swords."

_Your turn is coming. Just wait._

"I plan on waiting _indefinitely_ if-- wait."

There was someone outside. Presence, a blot of ice in what was yet another unrelentingly hot Tatooine day. Coming in quickly-- now Hux could hear the whine of a speeder.

 _It seems our time is up,_ Jinn said, and vanished. Hopefully to warn Phasma. Please to warn Phasma.

Hux didn't wait to meet it, making a break for the relative safety of the ship's open boarding ramp. Their guest swerved for him, the bike model spraying sand with the maneuver, and Hux dove out of the way. Up again to meet it this time, blaster pistol in hand. If their guest was that fucking eager to die... He didn't fire directly at the black-cloaked figure, but the speeder's power cell was large and vulnerable and too awkwardly angled to be easy to defend. He heard a distorted screech of static, two shots going wide before the third struck home. The speeder bike sparked dangerously. Hux shot it again, grinning as it caught fire.

The rider leaped free, and Hux was forced to hit the ground again as it sailed over him, close enough to scorch his back. It blew, the pressure wave enough to have knocked him off his feet if he hadn't already been there.

"Naughty boy," the rider said, and even under the vocoder's growl it was easy to tell that his new opponent was female. Black cloak, gleam of silver around the helmet's eyes... Jinn was right. Their pursuit had finally caught up, and honestly it was about fucking time.

Hux shook off the sand, breathing deep. He had managed Ren with just a blaster before. He opened himself up again, almost sneezing at the _haze_ around her in the Force, tendrils that prodded at the edges of his shields as Snoke had done. Hux swatted them back, hissing faintly.

"Oh, we're a feisty one," the Knight said, laughing. "Master wasted you on Kylo."

Hux shook his head again, pushing away the dark tendrils of power that the Knight kept sending out. Confusion, maybe? Fear? Hux hadn't asked, even if he'd seen the effects of someone clouding minds on the battlefield. He let himself sink further into the austere life of the desert, letting its _patience_ flow through him. All he needed was a moment.

Firing wasn't a particularly conscious act. It was simply the natural result, inevitable as gravity, of the configuration of wind, sun, weapon.

The Knight's lightsaber was lit in a thought, blood-red blade deflecting the shot just barely in time, a whisper of smoke in her cloak. Hux breathed a laugh and broke into a run, circling, letting the shots come as the Force whispered to take them. The Knight's lightsaber hummed, and a few bolts returned, nipping Hux's heels. He was almost clear.

A fist closed around his chest, bodily lifting him up from the sand and pinning his arms to his sides.

Telekinesis. _Fuck._

"Not bad," the Knight said, only just winded. Hux struggled in the invisible grip, stilling only when the giant's hand around him tightened. "I can see why we were warned about you."

"Not well enough if you're stupid enough to be here," Hux said, gasping as a band of pressure wrapped around his throat to match the one holding him up. He batted uselessly at the telekinetic grip, only picking up scattered impressions of other kills like this one, young and half-trained and panicking as they died. Fuck Skywalker for leaving out important things like _how to break a Force-grip._

"You're adorable," she said, purring the words as she walked closer to him. Hux let off trying to pry the grip off and sent his awareness skittering over to Phasma. It was easy to establish contact with her, though she was distracted, Ren was in her way.

_Phasma!_

_Hux, what the fuck is--_

The Knight hummed thoughtfully, and Hux's eyes widened as he felt the transmitter around his neck shift, bumping his chin as it rose out of his shirt.

"Ooooh. You gift wrapped him for me," she said, and the casing of the transmitter cracked. "That'll make this easy."

 _Solvent. Toolkit, third pocket, green cap._ Hurry.

_Hang on, I'm--_

_Order, Captain!_ Fuck he couldn't take her on like this and that switch was _not hers._ He thumped her shields, snarling, claws of presence sliding against them, searching for a crack. She tilted her head, almost close enough to touch.

"Are you that eager to die and miss the show?" she said, and the grip on his throat tightened until the edges of his vision greyed. "Got _attached_ to our Kylo, did you?"

She held up a hand, the transmitter floating to settle demurely right above her fingers. How she was splitting her attention so many ways... Hux caught it, a flaw in her shields, a faint wavering. He didn't have any reason to try and split _his_ attention, gathering himself for a strike against the weak spot.

"Oh well," she said, and the transmitter broke into a thousand glittering fragments. Hux waited for her moment of triumph and then _hit_ her, balling up rage and frustration and slamming it into the shimmery weakness he sensed. She stumbled, letting go of him completely. Hux dropped to the sand, gasping for air.

From the ramp, a blaster rifle spoke. The Knight batted the bolts away, aiming them back at their source, but Phasma was behind cover. Hux scraped himself together, too dizzy from the sudden resumption of oxygen in his system to try actually moving, so that he could hit the smug bitch in the mind again. Before he could do so, the Force _rippled,_ a pressure wave with its origin in the ship that made him swear he could feel his ears pop.

Hux knew that feeling. He'd just never known where it _came from_ before.

Distantly he heard Phasma bite off a curse, the blaster shots stuttering for a moment-- change of handedness? Was she all right? He couldn't quite find her, not with the way the Force _flexed_ before snapping back into place, Ren's presence unfolding like its own miniature sunrise.

"Have to make this difficult," the Knight said. Hux could hear heavy footsteps down the ramp, but his gaze was still stuck on the sky. _Move._ Had to move.

"Celes Ren," Ren said, his voice rough, as if _he'd_ been the one recently strangulated. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like? Cleaning up after you, _again,"_ the Knight-- Celes-- said, mocking. "I thought you were actually _good_ at slaughtering barely trained apprentices."

"I--" Ren said.

"Hurry up, and the only tale I'll tell is how _pathetic_ you are."

Hux heard the snap of a lightsaber igniting. Despite the disconcerting way the ground lurched, he managed to roll over. Ren was dithering on the ramp, and Hux spotted the flash of sun on a blaster barrel as Phasma slowly adjusted her position.

 _Five credits she's his ex._ Phasma. Her mental voice was shaky.

_No bet. Go cycle the ship up._

_You're going to need cover fire._

_I seem to recall cannon controls in the cockpit._

Phasma paused, considering. _You trust Ren?_

Hux grimaced, wrapping himself tightly in the same _not-here_ he'd used on the _Finalizer_ , layering it until even _he_ could see the outline of his hand waver. _That's entirely up to him at this point._

_If you say so. Keep the bitch busy. I want to see if that laser sword can deflect artillery._

Ren slowly walked down the ramp, unfocused. Hux waited for him to step clear, eyeing Celes warily. No telling if she could see through his trick shield-- she had resources a door sensor didn't.

"Oh, no. _You_ got yourself into this mess. _You_ can kill your way out of it if you're so eager to come back," Celes said, holding her hand up. Ren halted, staring at her blankly. "Go on. Take care of the traitors."

"You are not my master."

Celes shook her head, lazily spinning the lightsaber the way Hux had seen Ren do it, only her control of the blade was good enough to snap it back into a guard position one-handed. "We're not _with_ Master Snoke right now."

"Then no one will mind your death," Ren said softly, focusing, finally, on the other Knight.

"Master should have named you _Tantrum,"_ Celes said, and with that she darted forward, slashing in only to be met with Ren's lightsaber at the last second. The two exchanged a flurry of blows, moving so fast they were streaks of black and red in Hux's vision. Sand flew in the air when Celes kicked Ren, who rolled to his feet and blocked before she could bisect him.

 _Finally_ they were far enough from the ramp for Hux to move. He sprinted, keeping as low to the ground as he could and still make speed as lightsabers crashed behind him. Celes was saying something, the language wholly unfamiliar and _jagged._ Ren howled something back, his tirade cut short by Celes roundhouse kicking him in the jaw. Ren flailed in her general direction, too focused on trying to _hit her_ to actually attempt to anticipate her next move. Hux paused at the top of the ramp, watching as Ren seized Celes in a Force-grip of his own and threw her at the wall of the hovel before she could make good on the opening and hack his arm off.

She managed to break it, check her momentum, and come back at Ren at a sprint. The pair crashed again, Celes dancing through Ren's two-handed slashes even if she couldn't quite get past his guard. He swung as if the blade was heavier than it was, overbalancing and recovering over and over while she baited him on.

Ren hadn't practiced with the new lightsaber. Because he was a _goddamn idiot._

Hux ducked behind the ramp's hydraulics. The vibration in the decking was picking up-- he didn't need Phasma to tell him that the ship was ready to fly. Ren and Celes were actually back to meeting each other's strikes again, too close for Phasma to break them up with cannon fire, not without hitting Ren as well.

Leaving was an option.

Ren was struggling-- Celes was too fast, too coordinated for him, and it didn't take precognition to know that she was going to wear him out long before he could figure out how to slip past her guard. Hux reached into his boot for the throwing knife he'd left there, cursing himself silently for ten kinds of fool as he held that shield of _not-here_ close. Creeping down the ramp to better range, he waited for an opening. The ship shuddered, the engine's vibration picking up into a roar as it lifted off.

Kylo Ren started as Phasma swung the ship for him. Celes lunged at Ren, and Hux dropped his _not-here_ shield and threw the knife. It struck Celes in the shoulder, and at her shriek of pain, Ren deflected her lightsaber strike and threw her clear with what looked like a Force-delivered slap. It was the opening Phasma must have been hoping for, because blaster fire pelted Celes's location almost immediately, churning the sand into even more of a dust cloud.

"Get on, you nit!" Hux yelled, or tried to, his voice a weak rasp. Ren seemed to hear him anyway, taking a running leap onto the ramp despite the fact it was several meters up.

Ren overbalanced, and Hux lunged forward to grab the idiot's wrist before he could tumble off. They shuffled up the ramp together, hanging on to each other as the ship swiveled to follow Celes. Hux slapped the ramp control with a sigh of relief, the howl of wind and roar of blaster fire dulling into silence as it closed with a whump and a hiss of the hatch sealing.

Ren flicked his lightsaber off, staring wild-eyed at their clasped hands. Hux flexed his fingers. Ren got the hint and let him go.

"I thought you were supposed to kill me," Hux said, though the words were half whispered in deference to how much trying to talk made his throat hurt. He had a date with the medkit.

"A time and place of _my_ choosing, Hux," Ren growled, visibly shaking off his confusion. "You're _lucky_ I happen to owe you right now."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Hux said, half-smiling.

 _Wild vornskrs. All of you._ Jinn's blue form faded in, the Jedi ghost pausing to straighten robes that weren't the least bit windblown.

"So nice of you to join us," Hux said, rolling his eyes.

"You can see him?" Ren said, staring between them both. The wild look was creeping back into his eyes.

"Unfortunately."

 _About time_ you _did,_ Jinn said, smiling widely. _We've been waiting for you._

Ren's jaw worked, his too expressive face fighting several emotions at once, before he turned on his heel and practically fled into the depths of the ship.

"Oh, good _job,_ Jinn," Hux said, following after even if Ren had managed a very _fast_ vanishing act.

 _I told you. Terrible timing,_ Jinn said, vanishing again, though the sense of the ghost's _presence_ didn't fade, just shifted.

Hux ran a hand through his hair, grimaced when sand trickled down the back of his neck, and went looking for a medkit. Ren could stew for a bit. There was only so much ship, and Hux needed to plot their next destination with Phasma before any potential pursuit caught them in the stream of outgoing traffic. Ghosts and unstable Force-users could wait until Hux at least had a dose of painkiller in him.

One goddamn thing at a time.


	14. Chapter 14

Hux dropped down the last two rungs of the ladder leading to the gun emplacement, stumbling only a little on the dismount. The ship hummed with hyperspace, safe enough for him to lean against the chilly metal and steal a few moments to breathe. 

_ Fucking  _ Farel and fucking Second Fleet... He swallowed, pushing away the part of him that kept up the shrill scream of  _ traitor  _ since the dogfight started. It didn't  _ matter  _ anymore if some of them had been  _ his  _ once upon a time. Setting up an ambush just as they were about to be  _ clear  _ of fucking Tatooine...

He felt more than heard Phasma join him, and peeled himself off the ladder enough to return the loose embrace she offered. They stood like that, foreheads touching and breath mingling, uncertain grief like a wave that bounced between them the second Hux accepted her hesitant tap at his shields. It _shouldn't_ have felt this way, not like a knife to the lungs, not _now._ _They_ were not traitors, they hadn't given the damned _orders--_

_ If we were good soldiers, we'd be dead already. _

Hux breathed a faint laugh, not sure precisely  _ who  _ had the thought, not really caring, and only wincing a little when his throat complained at the sound. Maybe yelling into the commlink hadn't been a good idea so soon on the heels of a fucking Sith-wannabe trying to strangle him, but it had drowned out his conscience enough for him to keep fighting, even when he  _ felt  _ startled death filter though the Force to him.

_ It's past time. We need to link up with Mitaka. Look after  _ our  _ own. _ Phasma's practicality had him nodding, the exhaustion of the last weeks crashing down on him. They could handle a running battle, but not like this. Not skipping randomly between systems in a single trash heap of a ship, forced to rely on their erstwhile triumvir, despite his always-questionable loyalties, as hunters closed in from all sides.

_ You have a code? _ Hux wearily scraped together his thoughts, standing up straight again. Phasma kept a hand on his arm, which was probably just as well. The adrenaline crash was starting to hit.

_ Breadcrumb, _ Phasma sent, regretful.  _ If his location is too hot, he'll have left a forwarding address. Mouse should still be with him. _

_ The others skipped on? _

_ We might not get everyone back. Some liked Finn's idea of returning the favor. _

_ Cross it when we come to it. We have enough to worry about, and it might keep the Resistance distracted, _ Hux said, sighing. Hopefully Organa or whichever of her henchmen was overseeing volunteers would have the sense of  _ vet  _ any of  _ his  _ lost sheep, which could potentially tie up resources for a while. Good. He didn't begrudge the desire to go kill people, but a Resistance with its hands full of new personnel was a Resistance that wasn't going to be after anyone  _ else  _ leaving the First Order's embrace. That was a negotiation he wasn't planning on dealing with  _ ever. _

"I'll adjust our course when we skip out," Phasma said aloud, "You should--"

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by the klaxon of the fire suppression system going off, accompanied by a flare of mingled temper and dread that could really only have one source. Hux and Phasma looked at each other before taking off at a jog for Ren's position, somewhere near the second gun emplacement. 

Mist swirled through the narrow corridor that led to the open lounge, the remains of the chemicals used to put out the fire. Hux slapped the nearest control panel, which shut off the environmental system's complaints. The carpet, which had already been a lost cause decades ago, was smouldering fitfully under a coat of fire foam. In the center of the damage was, naturally, Anakin, who was blinking owlishly Ren, who was plastered against the wall and practically vibrating with rage. 

_ What the everloving fuck did you do now? _ Hux sent, trying to swallow a painful cough from the white shit everywhere. One dose of anti-inflammatory was  _ not enough _ for this. 

"Just said hello," Anakin said, hunched in his cloak defensively. 

"More than that. Ren hasn't set anything on fire in years," Phasma said, snorting.

"Do not fucking  _ call me that!" _ Ren yelled, dropping the temperature of the lounge noticeably. "It's Kylo.  _ Kylo. _ And  _ you  _ can take your platitudes and shove them up your  _ ass, _ Anakin Skywalker. I'm not your pet renovation project!"

"He didn't believe me," Anakin said mildly. The ghost's blue glow was noticeably dimmer than usual, though his  _ presence  _ was as strong as ever, chilly feelers that did  _ not  _ come from Ren.

"Can you two not set the fucking ship on fire? We're  _ underway, _ assholes," Phasma said, saving Hux the trouble.

"Tell your  _ s'taruq jidai," _ Ren growled, "Still lying even when your precious  _ Order  _ is ash."

"Oh, insults. We're mature," Anakin said, not even flinching when the wall panel nearest him dented on its own.

_ Ren. Cut it the fuck out or you're finding out if you can breathe in space. I don't care what the fucking ghost said, _ Hux said, thumping the Knight's shields by way of announcing the try at connection. 

Incredibly, they gave way easily, the mental link for mindspeech effortless, and Ren flicked a shocked glance at Hux, message received.  _ When did you-- _

_ Tatooine. I mean it about the airlock. _

Ren's lip curled, showing an edge of teeth.  _ You could try. _

Hux snorted when Ren reeled in his presence anyway. Phasma looked between the two. "What is Anakin supposedly lying about?"

"I don't know what he fed my uncle, and I don't care. _ Anakin Skywalker _ is not my grandfather," Ren spat.

"Nobody can ever believe I'm the galaxy's worst the floor is lava player," Anakin said, almost on the heels of Ren's words, flippant but unable to quite hide the note of regret.

"You really expect me to believe the Jedi Order's _ chosen one _ turned around one day and killed  _ everyone  _ in the temple? Out of the blue? Forgive me if I'm not a gullible idiot!"

"I never claimed I make the best life choices."

"I can see why Skywalker and Organa would have said  _ you  _ were their father. Politics rules them  _ and  _ their stupid Republic. I bet it would be  _ interesting  _ to just let the truth out--"

"Go ahead. I'm sure the fireworks would be awesome. The old Imperial forces would have a field day. Still doesn't change the truth.  _ I'm _ Darth fucking Vader.  _ You  _ are my grandson.  _ Deal  _ with it."

_ "You _ can't be Darth Vader."

"Why  _ not?" _ Anakin said. There was a static charge in the air, reminiscent of Ren's moments of temper.

_ "You _ aren't Dark," Ren said, accusingly. "Struggled with the Dark Side my ass,  _ hero with no fear. _ Bedtime stories to lull everyone to sleep, as if I didn't  _ know. _ I've known since I was a  _ child  _ that darkness was my birthright. You can't put me to sleep with your nonsense about going back to the Light. I'm awake now."

"Oh,  _ that  _ you are," Anakin murmured.

_ Who  _ cares? _ We have more important things to worry about than who is related to who, _ Hux sent to the room in general, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. 

"I am not going to be a Jedi pawn. I am  _ not  _ going back," Ren said, "I will grow strong enough in the Dark Side to  _ stop  _ you manipulative bastards and there will be  _ nothing  _ you can do about it."

"Stop us doing what?" Anakin said quietly. Phasma reached Hux's side, if the warm hand on his shoulder and the wordless query about how he was doing were an indication. This whole clusterfuck was giving him a headache, though the eddies in the Force that surrounded the two insane people weren't  _ helping. _

"Making slaves of us all," Ren said, and Hux opened his eyes to take in the tense lines of the Knight's body, as if he was barely checking himself from lunging at the ghost. "Pawns of a corrupt government, denied even  _ feelings. _ Your Order  _ cannot  _ continue.

"I don't  _ care  _ who I have to kill to stop that. I  _ will  _ stop it, even if I have to do it alone. It's my fate." Ren's expression was hard to read, despair and pride and fury tangled together. 

_ " _ _ Wonoksh Qyâsik nun," _ Anakin said quietly, his voice a purring growl as he spoke the words. 

Ren's eyes went wide before he visibly pulled himself together, stalking close to Anakin with a sneer, just tall enough to look down on the ghost. "Don't mock me. You think you can just parrot the Code--"

"What did he name you, boy?" Anakin's voice had gone deeper, deeper than should have been possible at his normal register. There was an  _ edge  _ to it now, as if the alien words that had come out of his mouth were permanently lodged in his throat. The ghost's glow was dimming, fading away as shadows grew around him, as if something about him was  _ eating  _ the light he gave off. The amber sheen was back in his eyes, which Hux hadn't seen since the  _ Finalizer, _ what felt like a lifetime ago.

"I don't know what you--"

_ "Tash'wai woyunoks nun. _ I watched you make your Sacrifice," Anakin said, and between one breath and the next the ghost was taller, broader, looming over the Knight. Ren went white, swallowing. 

"You.."

_ "Name, _ boy."

"Tempest," Ren whispered. There was frost climbing the walls, but whether it was Anakin or the dread Ren was radiating was hard to tell. They were matched, enough so that though there wasn't any malfunction at all, the lights seemed dimmer.

"Tempest... Could be worse," Anakin said, a faint thread of humor there even if his voice was still wrongly deep. "Do you know what Vader  _ means, _ oh my grandson?"

"N-no.. It's.. It doesn't match a known dialect," Ren said, transfixed.

"It wouldn't. It's gutter-Sith, the slave dialect. I had to bully several holocrons to learn it," Anakin said, his smile a bitter twist. "It means  _ father." _

"Oh," Ren breathed. "Oh, fuck."

"Oh _ yes. _ I tore apart the Jedi Order once because I thought it was the only way to save my family. Because they were holding me back from the power that could accomplish it," Anakin said, "You see,  _ I _ knew since I was a child that  _ power  _ was  _ my  _ birthright.

"And when I found out what that  _ fuck  _ Sidious did to my head.. that was the  _ first  _ time I tried to kill him. It seems Darth Murmur is  _ also  _ fond of the Sleepwalker's Initiation."

"Snoke?" Phasma said, the word half-question.

"Who else? He covered his tracks well," Anakin said, the dark aura in the room shuddering before it began to drain away, color returning to the ghost's form. "Had to make a fucking field trip to Korriban just to get the name. I hate Korriban."

"No," Ren said, his voice quavering. Hux dragged his eyes away from the spectacle that was Anakin returning to normal to see Ren shivering, shaking his head in denial.

_ Ren? _ Hux let the thought spool quietly through the path of their earlier connection, more invitation than query. The Knight's gaze snapped to Hux, only the dark near-black of his eyes was faint-glowing amber, and it was easy to see that his pupils were blown wide.

"I can't go back. I can't  _ go  _ back," Ren whispered, hoarse. "It doesn't  _ matter, _ don't you understand? There's no going back. I  _ killed  _ them."

_ You don't have a monopoly on irreversible decisions that get people killed. _ Hux growled faintly, but even the small attempt at speaking spiked pain in his throat. He needed to actually sit with the medical scanner and make sure Celes hadn't permanently damaged anything.

_ "I _ killed them. Don't any of you people get it?  _ I _ did it, not Master, not anyone else, just  _ me." _

_ No shit. We did a lot of that today, don't you think? _

"It's  _ different," _ Ren said, distressed enough that the words actually  _ didn't  _ ring petulant.

"Ben, I know," Anakin said gently. Ren flinched back. 

"Then what do you hope to do? I-- It's too late for me," Ren said.

"I thought that, too," Anakin said. "I destroyed my home. I killed everyone who ever loved me. Where the fuck else was I going to go? Why else be Sidious's attack dog for twenty years?"

"There's no going back into the Light. I don't care what you say," Ren said, scowling. 

"There's also nothing saying you have to walk any farther into the Dark, either," Anakin said, smiling. "You used to wonder why I never finished it? Why I never ripped control of the Empire from Sidious?"

"Yes. You could have let him  _ have  _ Luke."

"Yes. I could. It would have been the easier thing."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Luke reminded me of something important. Something I think we forget, when we're busy making orbital strikes on all our bridges," Anakin said, "And it's right there in the fucking Code, like a bad punchline.  _ Through power, I gain victory. Through victory--" _

_ "My chains are broken," _ Ren finished, swallowing, as if something had died in his mouth. 

_ "What _ chains, Darth Tempest?"

_ You chose this. _ The thought rose, unbidden, an echo of the memory fragment that had knocked Hux on his ass in the shuttle.

"I did," Ren said, flashing a sour look at Hux.  _ You said you didn't see anything. _

_ I didn't. I just felt it. _

"I thought  _ our  _ indoctrination program was tough," Phasma said, whistling lowly. 

"You really think I can just.. choose differently? Pretend I never did any of it?" Ren said.

_ "No," _ Anakin said ruefully. "There really  _ is  _ no going back. There's only forward. I can't help you live with it. That wasn't a complication _ I _ encountered."

"I'm not that eager to die," Ren said sourly.

"Good. Wouldn't recommend it. Dying  _ sucks," _ Anakin said.

_ You're pretty cheerful for a dead man, _ Hux said, snorting. 

"Being dead is all right. No picnic.  _ Dying  _ is the part that sucks."

"So now that we've had this touching family meeting, I have to get to the cockpit," Phasma said, "I don't think Snoke, or Darth Murmur, or whatever he goes by tomorrow, is going to give up the chase just because of a pep talk."

"No. He... He hasn't spoken to me yet, but..." Ren said.

"Jinn told us about training bonds," Phasma said. 

"I should meditate. I might be able to shield it," Ren said, steeling himself.

_ Not break it? _

"Sith training bonds aren't like the ones Jedi use," Anakin said, "Traditionally, they only break on the death of the Master."

_ Somehow I don't think we're going to achieve that before the bond becomes a problem. _ Not that it wasn't very much on Hux's to-do list.

"That was the other reason I was here... Qui-Gon thinks he's tracked down a lead on that in the old Jedi Archive. We need to head to Coruscant," Anakin said.

"Pit stop first. We need to pick up our slicer," Phasma said.

"Fair enough. I'll send a guide to meet you-- I don't have the codes to make it all work, but he does," Anakin said before he reached out to brush insubstantial fingers down Ren's arm. "Call if you need me. I mean it. I'd hear you clear across the galaxy. You  _ don't  _ have to do this alone."

"I will," Ren said softly. Anakin nodded and bowed deeply to Ren before vanishing. 

_ If you promise not to set the fucking ship on fire again, I will pretend all of this never happened, _ Hux offered, sighing at the spot where Anakin had been. Fucking ghost.

"You can't," Ren said, turning an appraising eye on Hux. "You also need a teacher who isn't  _ dead. _ You don't want to take on a Sith lord with haphazard training in your abilities."

_ So do you. _

"Me?"

_ Your tactics might work on ordinary people, but we're not trying to  _ kill  _ ordinary people. I don't think you want to take on any Sith lords with haphazard combat training.  _

"Trade?"

_ Trade. Fine. How long until we're wherever we're going? _

"Including the time it's going to take to get turned back around? Six hours. Go get checked out. Get some sleep, if you can. I will be," Phasma said.

"You really think it will be as easy as that?" Ren said bitterly.

"No. But there's no sense bitching about what you can't change," Phasma said, and she turned briskly to make her way back to the cockpit. Hux snorted faintly, grateful to leave behind the remains of the foam and find where he'd dumped the medkit before he was forced to scramble for the guns.

"You could have left me. More than once," Ren said softly. Hux paused, half-turning. Ren was staring at the floor, the messy patterns of their footprints over the charred carpet.

_ You could have left us. I suppose we chose this. _

"I suppose we did." Ren looked up at him and smiled. Not his usual sardonic smirk, or the baring of teeth. A smile. 

_ Stop being soppy and go fix your head, _ Hux sent, but he knew he was smiling back.


	15. Chapter 15

Fragrant steam rose from the mug Hux clutched as he sat and tried to banish the remnants of half-drugged sleep. He no longer felt like gargling glass, though the medical scanner had primly informed him he needed to avoid talking and seek out an actual doctor for confirmation of his injuries. Deep tissue bruising was better than the alternatives, and he had to admit that the collection of purple marks that rose while he slept was pretty impressive.

It would have been better if they'd been able to  _ confirm  _ a kill of that bitch Knight of Ren, but ambition was dangerous when one was outmanned.

He tried a sip of the carefully hoarded tea, making a face at the tannic bite of the Tatooine black. He didn't have the energy to look for the sweetener to take the bitter edge off. Caffeine now. He was fairly sure they had landed, but things were still fuzzy around the edges between painkiller and the dregs of sleep. 

The hiss of a door opening drew his attention away from the black and white mess on the other side of the lounge-- maybe they would be better off removing all the attempts at carpeting, come to think of it. Ren shuffled in, rubbing his temples, and took the chair opposite. A blue figure-- Anakin, hiding in his hood-- followed and tried to take the seat between them, only to slide through it. The ghost laughed, a little drunkenly, and settled for hovering over the chair instead.

"What happened to you?" Hux asked. Ren gargled something, slitting bloodshot eyes at the light before he slumped forward and rested his head on his arms. 

"Call it excruciating self-discovery," Anakin said, not sounding much better.

Hux drank tea. Ren groaned and pulled his hood over his head. Anakin actually managed to stay quiet. Phasma joined them, her spine crackling audibly as she stretched and took the last chair. They lapsed into silence, the hum of their ship and their own quiet breathing rising to take the place of words. He had wondered when the crash would hit. 

"Here or there? The meeting?" Hux said, memory belatedly prodding him that the question was important.

"Here. Verbal confirm code. Didn't leave the door open," Phasma said.

"Right," Hux said.

Anakin cocked his head, listening to something, and pushed his hood off. For someone who by definition didn't need sleep, he looked remarkably tired. "We're on Naboo."

"Yeah," Phasma said. 

"Such a damn tourist," Hux said, snorting as he drank the last of the tea. Maybe they'd have time for another cup. Second time might be the charm for making him feel human again.

"Mitaka might have said go, but you know  _ Mouse  _ picked it," Phasma said.

"It's never a good idea to piss off the chief medical officer. Maybe he's just smart," Anakin said. He shook his head and poked Ren, who made aggravated noises and flailed a hand in the ghost's general direction.

"Enough, you sadist," Ren said, tilting his head up enough to rest his chin on his arms. He glared halfheartedly at the ghost.

_ "Keep _ them up," Anakin said.

"Yes,  _ Master," _ Ren said, and promptly hid his face in his arms again with another irritated growl.

"No more fires, either of you," Hux said, eyeing the galley and whether it was worth getting up to heat more water. 

"It is so weird hearing that again," Anakin said, chuckling when Ren flipped him off. 

"Which part?" Phasma said, which just made Anakin laugh harder.

The commlink going off forestalled conversation, and after a little prodding of the table's buttons the call appeared-- a mini-hologram of Mitaka. It was fuzzed near the bottom, but given that the projector still  _ worked  _ Hux was willing to call it even. 

"You weren't kidding about the trash heap, sir," Mitaka said, nodding to them. "We're ready to report." Phasma nodded, flashing Hux a hand-sign-- correct code received. 

"Hold tight," Hux said, setting the empty mug down before he headed for the ramp controls. Mitaka and Mouse were indeed waiting for them, Mouse riding piggyback. She waved, grinning.

"Hi, sir! Nice to see you're still kicking!" she said as Mitaka stopped to let her down. 

"We're the only ones stationed here," Mitaka added as Mouse adjusted her kit. The red sigils stamped on her gear that marked medics in the field were a welcome sight after weeks of prissy automated systems.

"Come in. I hope you aren't allergic to fire foam," Hux said, waving them inside before he shut the hatch back up. They made their way back to the somewhat wrecked lounge. Ren hadn't moved a muscle from his slump, but Phasma was sitting up straighter and Anakin had shifted to float away from the chair.

"Captain. Master Ren," Mitaka said, dithering for a moment-- probably stifling the reflex to salute. 

"Kylo," Ren said, muffled by the fact he was still hiding his face.

"Sir?" Mitaka said, and Hux snorted faintly when Mitaka edged a step behind Mouse.

"It's Kylo. Is your name _ lieutenant?" _

"Hello again, Master Jedi," Mouse said, nodding to Anakin as she stripped off her collection of field kits and elbowed Mitaka back out toward the table again.

"The ghost is  _ still here?" _ Mitaka said incredulously as Hux reclaimed his chair. 

_ "Quieter," _ Ren growled. 

"Yes, sir," Mitaka said, eyeing Ren dubiously. Mouse rolled her eyes and muttered, digging with energy into one of the kits.

"How long have you been having migraine symptoms?" she said, beelining for Ren.

"Not that long," Ren said while Mouse snagged a hypo injector from her pocket and dialed in something. 

"Define  _ that long. _ You know you're supposed to report them," Mouse scolded, jabbing Ren before he could answer. The Knight actually yelped and sat up, glaring at her.

"I don't know. An hour? It's just overextension," Ren said as he rubbed the arm she'd stabbed.

"You have  _ got  _ to cut that shit out," Mouse said, waving the injector under Ren's nose. "I just got done making sure you were  _ fixed!" _

"It needed to be done," Anakin said, his eyes cutting to Ren, who favored Mouse with a pout. "Though I agree this shouldn't be a  _ regular  _ thing."

"This happens regularly?" Hux said. It was the wrong thing to do-- his voice was wavery even after self-treatment, and without Ren whining at her Mouse was on him in an instant. At least she  had the decency not to poke the bruising on his throat, though she did run her fingertips over his cheek and  _ tisk  _ at the peeling remnants of sunburn there.

"What did you  _ do  _ to yourself?" she said, fishing a handheld scanner out of her other pocket. "Phasma, please tell me you haven't been stupid for the  _ whole two weeks _ you were on your own."

"No, they're the ones who got lucky," Phasma said, grinning as Mouse waved her scanner and muttered darkly.

"Is this normal?" Mitaka said, evidently deciding Phasma was the safest to talk to given  _ Ren  _ and the fact Mouse was suggesting Hux enjoyed some sex acts that were  _ not anatomically possible _ in Huttese under her breath while she took his vitals.

"You're fresh from Academy tour, aren't you?" Phasma said.

"The  _ Finalizer  _ was my first grown-up posting," he said. 

"Well. Hate to tell you, but this is tame. Our esteemed general is usually a much shittier patient," Phasma said, smiling a little. Hux huffed softly when Mouse stabbed him with something else-- how many pockets did she  _ have  _ in her jacket?-- and then proffered a tube of gel right in front of his nose.

"You're lucky nothing dislocated, and you need to rest your voice as much as possible for the next seventy-two hours or it  _ will  _ go out," she said. "Gel on what's left of the sunburn or you can shut the hell up about itching, and learn to  _ wear a damn hat." _ Then Mouse sighed contentedly and stole the last remaining chair, which Mitaka had been careful not to sit in thanks to proximity to Ren, who had stopped sitting hunched over and squinting at everything.

"And the universe resumes its proper axis," Phasma teased.

"I know. You missed me," Mouse said with a grin. Mitaka shook his head with a bemused smile of his own and carefully sidled over to Mouse, leaning on the back of her chair.

"So, kids, what's your next move?" Anakin said.

"Coruscant," Hux said.

"What about it?" Mitaka said. 

"I guess we should," Ren said with a sigh.

"We are going to need information for a shot at the Core," Hux said before Mitaka could repeat the question. "We have an errand on Coruscant before we progress to any larger plans, and if either of you decides to walk away from the endeavor, it will probably make a safer harbor than here."

"It would depend on the nature of the endeavor, wouldn't it?" Mitaka said. 

"True," Phasma said, "But one thing at a time."

Mitaka nodded, looking thoughtful. "How much information will you need? I did do a  _ little  _ reconnaissance."

"We're going to hit the Imperial Palace," Ren said, "In and out. They should still have a token guard, but the general lay of the land should do."

"Jedi Temple," Anakin said softly, scowling. "The fucking  _ bloodstains  _ are still there."

_ "Whichever," _ Ren said. Hux sighed softly-- if the hovel on Tatooine was any indication at all,  _ he  _ was going to be wishing for a Force inhibitor before it was over.

"Oh, in that case... I have some intel on what's happening with the Republic," Mitaka said diffidently. "They don't seem to understand the meaning of the words  _ press blackout." _

"Nose in his datapad the entire time we were looking around," Mouse said, "Almost fell into a canal." She grinned up at him indulgently. Hux snorted and briefly debated reminding the pair that there were  _ other people _ on the ship now, but the first thing anyone learned about carrying on an affair was the art of  _ being quiet about it. _

"Oh, good. We get to find out how many people will be baying for our blood," Ren said flatly. 

"Not as many as you might think," Mitaka said, warming up to the subject almost instantly. "Admittedly, it would take some doing to get at  _ military  _ grade communication, but the general feeling on the public nets place the blame almost as much on the Imperial Remnant as on the First Order. From the perspective of most, Hosnian was a bolt from the blue, and the origination point has error bars too large to make a solid call. It isn't even the first priority on a lot of the news crawls. Starkiller, well, Starkiller worked  _ exactly  _ according to plan."

"The breakup of the Republic. So it wasn't entirely just copy," Hux said, a little surprised. All of the Order's generals had to do time in stupid holovids. He had assumed it was just his turn, the melodrama of the moment too good to pass up despite the fact that he would have much rather been in operations actually doing something  _ useful. _

"No, sir. Cracked right along all the old fault lines-- the Core panicked and drew in pretty much all the remaining military forces, only since they don't know where to  _ aim, _ it's been a lot of bluster on newsfeeds and the surviving lazy senators yelling at each other about where to reconvene. The Outer Rim and Mid Rim are open season for First Order takeover, and there's been complaining already about breakdowns in trade as the bigger, bloatier outfits are refusing to go past the Inner Rim, and there isn't a government of any level of actual organization to  _ make them. _ If the Resistance weren't out there already, there would probably be plenty of systems bending the knee to the Order. And  _ they're  _ having the same supply line disruptions as everyone else in addition to having a minority calling for  _ their  _ arrest due to provoking the Order."

"Clone Wars two, now minus the clones," Anakin said with a sigh. "Fuck my life."

"I took the liberty of composing a more comprehensive report, but an outdated freighter's IFF code is innocuous enough we can probably get to Coruscant fairly easily. Planet-side might be harder, depending on the level of local paranoia. I'll have to watch the nets, see what I can do for forged IDs," Mitaka said, fishing a datachip out of his pocket and setting it carefully on the table.

Hux frowned at it. He'd have to review it, but the verbal report was worrisome enough. The galaxy at large melting down into chaos was surprisingly  _ bad  _ for successfully pulling off assassination missions, and if he managed nothing else, he owed his restless dead  _ that  _ much.

"Small favors. So long as nobody releases that unflattering holovid, no one will know any of  _ us  _ had anything to do with it," Phasma said, then fixed a smirk on Hux. "Or that  _ you're  _ actually capable of being baby-faced."

Hux scowled at her and checked the motion he had been making to tap his chin. He had  _ assumed  _ Phasma was done giving him shit about shaving the beard off when they were assigned to Sixth Fleet together, given that it was  _ years ago. _ Apparently she had decided to age it like wine instead. Ren leaned in, looking interested for the first time since he'd shuffled into the room.

"You mean the man who gels his eyebrows prefers  _ scruffy?" _ Ren said, grinning.

"I wouldn't start if I were you, Ren," Hux said, though it was without heat. It was difficult to get mad at the laws of nature playing out, and Ren not taking the bait Phasma offered would have been a real cause for concern.

"Kylo. My name is Kylo. Unless you want me to call  _ you  _ Scruffy," Ren said. At least it wiped the grin off his face.

"Why the hell do you suddenly care?"

Ren swallowed, throat working on the words for a breath. When he did speak, it was quiet, threaded with faint grief. "One of the few things I'm sure of at the moment is that I no longer want to be owned by  _ him." _

"We'll give you a number ticket, then," Phasma said, since Hux was too busy staring at Ren--  _ Kylo, _ certainly, at  _ that  _ disclosure-- to answer right away. "For your turn."

"You're going to need something more efficient than that. It's going to be a lot of tickets," Mouse said, favoring them all with a tight smile of her own. Mitaka watched them with the air of a man trying to follow a very fast hoverball game. Hux waved Mouse off before she could wax lyrical on possible turn-keeping schemes. Just because their  _ existence  _ already fell under the qualifications for treason didn't mean he wanted to corrupt the junior officers more than usual.

Anakin tilted his head, as if listening to something far off. "I need to go. I'll try to find you before you land on Coruscant. Also, I'm told you need to give Phasma something." The ghost didn't wait around, flickering out of existence after he whispered something to Kylo in that tongue-twisting language they both spoke. Kylo started, but the ghost's disappearance forestalled whatever he was going to say.

"Presents for me?" Phasma said, raising her eyebrows. 

"What did he say?" Mitaka said, leaning down to let Mouse whisper a summary, presumably, in his ear.

"Jinn insisted I pick something up; I think it's for you. I--" The ship's proximity alert blatted a warning. "Collision detection?"

"Probably some local kids throwing rocks," Phasma said with a shrug, levering to her feet. "This thing's so damn old it doesn't turn off with the deflector, I guess." Hux followed her out to the cockpit, where the intercom was for yelling at said bored local kids. The transparisteel window, however, didn't show evidence of a rock. There was a smear of blood on it, tracing the path of a very dead lizard that had been dropped from above only to slide down the angled viewport and fetch up almost at eye level to a seated pilot. Hux looked up, where the viewport met the hull, and met a pair of vivid green-gold eyes.

"Why is there a feline on our ship?" Hux said, blinking at said feline as it opened its mouth and proceeded to meow abuse at them-- it was inaudible through the thick plating, but how pissed it was seemed fairly obvious between the display of teeth and the way its ears were flicked back. It was also the source of the dead lizard, given that its mouth was still smeared with the remains of its blue-green blood.

"Oh,  _ dammit  _ Millie," Mitaka said, peering into the cockpit and then up with the air of someone who had accidentally walked in on his own firing squad.

"Millie?" Hux said flatly. Phasma, curse her, had started to smile and climbed the pilot's chair to further antagonize the feline.

"She must have followed us," Mitaka said, looking anywhere but at Hux. "I'm sorry, sir, it's just Mouse was going through a really rough patch after we landed, and there was this  _ skatta  _ and she seemed to  _ help--" _

"We should let her on," Kylo said, and the cockpit was crowded to capacity with his addition, though he squeezed by to join Phasma's efforts at visually inspecting the feline. 

"We're not going on a pleasure cruise."

"She must have adopted Mouse or Mitaka," Kylo said, looking away from where the feline was trying to swat Phasma's finger. "Or both. Skatta get kind of territorial about their crews... They've been known to hitch-hike after their people if they're motivated enough."

"Skatta," Hux said flatly. It was a species he was unfamiliar with, though Kylo's knowledge of odd bits of spacer culture seemed to be thorough on the subject.

"They're actually domesticated," Kylo said, "Vermin control from the days before mouse droids got ubiquitous. The old trader families keep the breed going, though you can find them down gravity wells these days. They're supposed to be good luck, and I'd say this one already put in a decent resume." He was smiling up at her, fondness almost too intimate to watch.

"What are you-- oh!" Mouse said, leaning in and following everyone else's gaze. "Is that really?"

"Yeah," Mitaka said, coloring. 

"Millie sounds useful," Phasma said, turning a  _ knowing  _ look on Hux. He sighed aggravatedly-- he'd helped her rig the hydroponic system for the spider ivy, which was  _ already  _ going cheerfully bushy thanks to the magic of hyperspace.

"She's useful. I suppose she can come along, so long as she  _ stays  _ with the ship," he said, and tried not to let his amusement show when Kylo, Mouse, and Mitaka all trooped out to go let the skatta in. Soon enough the feline's face disappeared, probably attracted by the sound of the ramp going down.

Hux snagged the tiny silk bag from Tatooine from his pocket before he could forget in the general chaos surely making its way onboard. "These are for you."

Phasma took it, carefully tipping the tiny green crystals out into her palm. They glittered in the sunlight angling through the cockpit, humming a faint note of rightness. "Lightsaber crystals," she said, smiling slowly. "You  _ romantic." _

"Just don't take any lightsaber building advice from Kylo too seriously," Hux said.


	16. Chapter 16

"Why  _ you?" _ Kylo said, apropos of nothing, and loudly enough that it nudged Hux out of the last pleasant edges of meditation for the morning. He sighed softly, cracking one eye open, to see Kylo attempting to loom over Mitaka and scowling. Mitaka was seated at the table, holding a datapad somewhat defensively. Phasma sat in the chair opposite, with a ghost-- Hux didn't feel like reaching out to figure out who was under the hood-- and a pile of electronics that might theoretically assemble into a lightsaber before they landed. There was time yet-- it was a week's travel into the Core, and they were a mere two days in. At least it wasn't the  _ shuttle. _

"Guilt by association?" Mouse offered from the small nest of empty shipping crates she'd appropriated for more furniture, since bare decking didn't make for a comfortable place to sit and the lounge's other amenities had been ripped out ages ago. She was brushing the skatta's long fur, Millie's purr loud enough to compete with the rumble of the hyperdrive. The orange fluffmonster was well on her way to oozing out of Mouse's lap, small favor considering the feline had absolutely no problem with creeping through dusty conduits in search of prey.

"I don't know. I didn't sign up for the space wizard club," Mitaka said, steeling himself even as he put the datapad down. Days in close quarters had done wonders for Mitaka's habit of trying to keep any of them between himself and Kylo, and some of the former officer's natural sarcasm was coming back in.

"You're completely null. You shouldn't have been targeted," Kylo said, staring at Mitaka as if he would make sense with enough glaring applied.

"He wasn't," Mouse said, sighing and rubbing her eyes.

"What?" That diverted Kylo, who stopped his lean into Mitaka's personal space.

"He went with me," Mouse said, pushing Millie off her lap with a faint tisk before the skatta could finish her more gradual ooze. "For white noise. Head white noise. I don't know. Just coming over to the briefing hall was almost overwhelming with as wound up as everyone was, and it was just supposed to be _ information." _

Mouse's curse, they had quickly worked out, was  _ empathy. _ In its own way, it was as much a special hell as the psychometry was, though at least Mouse could shield out others' feelings to a degree once she had the basic instructions. She had only been a  _ little  _ mollified to learn that empathy commonly paired with healing-- Kylo was the closest to an expert on Force powers they had reliable access to, and he was only passable at it. Another task to add to their list. Hopefully the Jedi Archive would contain some kind of  _ reference  _ so that they weren't forced to rely solely on Kylo and a bunch of ghosts with attention problems. There were still  _ others  _ to call in and train in the basics, and likely a whole host of other specialities to uncover.

"I thought you just kept me around for my pretty face," Mitaka said, flashing a small smile at Mouse. "Now I'm a white noise machine?"

"Huh," Kylo said, leaning away from the fact that Mouse and Mitaka were giving each other unsubtle moon-eyes. "I guess it makes sense."

"Oh?" Hux said, opening his eyes fully.

"Overhearing thought or picking up emotion isn't much different from sorting through speech, or conversations in a crowded room. It's probably why all of you took to mindspeech so quickly. Get someone who's  _ thinking  _ obnoxiously loud next to you, it drowns out other inputs," Kylo said with a shrug.

"I wonder if it works on other talents," Hux said thoughtfully. They'd found the Force inhibitor, eventually. The latch was partially burned, testament to just how closely Phasma and Kylo cut it when the transmitter was destroyed. That also rendered the damn thing useless-- the Force-damping effect only worked when the circle was closed. Hux wasn't sure he wanted to resort to it after trying it. The inhibitor was like stumbling around the aftereffects of a flash-bang grenade, senses scrambled, only it went on and  _ on. _ Hard to weigh which was  _ worse. _

"Too bad it doesn't help today," Kylo said, turning a grin on Hux. He sighed, getting up now that meditation was over for the moment-- they had been trading off on the journey, swapping hurried lessons in order to even out gaps in their small team's skills. Force drills for sword drills, mostly, though the lightsaber project was likely to occupy Phasma all day, as it had yesterday when Kylo laboriously showed her how he took apart and assembled his own weapon.

"Don't fuck each other up," Mouse said cheerily as Kylo picked up the practice swords they'd cobbled together out of junk from the cargo hold. 

"You could do this," Hux said, rolling his eyes as he accepted one of the weapons.

"Nope. Medical speciality means having no life for a decade," Mouse said, grinning. "I'll save the sword-swinging for the experts."

"I was too busy with the contraband ring to join fencing club, sir," Mitaka said, picking up the datapad again.

"I'll come play when I'm done," Phasma said, laughing lowly. 

"I didn't think you wanted the audience," the ghost said. It was Jinn, who focused his attention on Phasma with an almost proprietary air.

"It's past your turn," Kylo said, and there was a familiar manic edge in him as he led the way to the larger cargo bay. 

The bay had been cleared of as much junk as possible to make room for practice, not a difficult feat considering the only cargo of note was the speeder bike Phasma had lifted on Tatooine and a bunch of empty crates that were so brittle with age they were patently useless. The rest of their gear was easy to stow in the ship's two berths, leaving plenty of wide open space. They needed it.

"Who shall go first? You or I?" Kylo said, once the cargo hold's door hissed shut behind them. Hux shook his head aggravatedly. 

"Since you keep insisting I  _ overthink  _ everything, I'll go first," he said, crossing the room and taking up a starting guard position.

"You  _ do  _ overthink everything," Kylo said, mirroring Hux's stance. "Except beating the hell out of people, apparently."

Hux smirked, letting Kylo settle. There were rules to the sword drills, prime being  _ no Force use. _ It hadn't come as a surprise to find out that Kylo relied rather heavily on his Force abilities when he picked up a blade, only formally trained in two of the old lightsaber disciplines. Enhanced speed, a timely Force-push, an aura that left one's enemies unreasonably afraid? It still felt to Hux like  _ cheating, _ even though he was learning the same tricks, albeit slowly.

The second rule was  _ no going easy on each other, _ which Kylo decided to embody when he rushed in with one of the high-low sequences they'd been drilling. Kylo's  _ technical  _ skill was there, the moves as fast and vicious as they needed to be, and he wasn't baited in by Hux's feints this morning as he tested defenses. It was  _ muscle-memory, _ the repetition that took those technical skills past thought and allowed for smooth improvisation, that Kylo had to work on, and his absolute  _ outrage  _ at the notion had resulted in several smashed cargo containers before the former Knight of Ren had calmed down enough to accept the truth.

More than once, Hux had the sneaking suspicion that Snoke had  _ deliberately  _ left Kylo's training half-finished and called it good. 

He pushed the thought aside, and the honest,  _ tempting  _ curl of the Force that offered to take the joy of a proper duel and transubstantiate it. Instead they chased each other around the cargo hold, measuring strikes in future bruises rather than the dispassionate adjudication of any attendant droids. From there, after only a brief stop to catch breath, they started again, flowing through the katas of the ancient lightsaber forms, or at least as much of them as Kylo had been able to remember-- five, six, a smattering of the first-- and slashing through the more prosaic sword drills of Hux's childhood. Even in the chill of the hold, they were both sweaty by the time they ran through the whole sequence.

Hux considered Kylo as he caught his breath, watching the other man fight with the damp hair that kept falling in his eyes.

"You've been at this," Hux said finally, absently wishing they'd had the forethought to bring water down.

"Don't sound so shocked," Kylo said, making faces as he tried and failed to tuck his hair behind his ears.  _ "You're _ the one who keeps reminding me we're not facing ordinary foes."

"Yes. I'm just curious where you get the  _ time," _ Hux said mildly.

"Nothing else to do during the night cycle," Kylo said with forced lightness. Hux opened his mouth to say something-- they didn't need Kylo passing out at a bad moment-- and then closed it.  _ He  _ wasn't in much position to talk, given his own habit of long nights. Kylo was an adult, even if he was an idiot half the time.

"Then what's on the agenda, since you seem to have been assiduously doing your homework?" Hux said.

"Telekinesis," Kylo said, smirking at Hux's grimace. 

"Is that such a good idea while we're underway?" Hux said, thinking of the exploding crates from earlier. They'd been lucky Kylo reined it in before he went into a full fit-- there wasn't the better part of a mile separating the hold from the hull  _ here, _ and some of that shrapnel was still strong enough to punch a hole through alloy walls with the right force on it. 

"Pushing only," Kylo said, "It's foundational anyway. We can worry about more direct manipulation when you can actually  _ move  _ something." 

Hux sneered halfheartedly. Phasma had, naturally, picked up on telekinesis right away, and the two lunatics had shoved each other around the hold gleefully during the open spar after dinner hour and an afternoon of putting dents in the walls with the surviving empty crates. It was why she was making the attempt at a lightsaber-- it was impossible to do the final adjustments to the crystals with  _ tools. _ Hux, meanwhile... 

They settled on the decking, cross-legged, and Hux sighed. It was stupid.

He knew it was perfectly possible to move something. He'd watched others do it, felt the way the Force curled around and through everything, been fucking  _ thrown around, _ but it was damnably  _ elusive. _ Focusing on objects just brought flickers of past events, if that, and pushing... 

Kylo reached out with exaggerated care and nudged him, barely stirring the air. Hux resisted the desire to hunch defensively and  _ watched  _ as Kylo did it again, flicking his fingers in time with the delicate nudge as if the visual cue was actually helpful. It was not quite a pressure wave in the air, too little displacement and sound for that. 

"Try it," Kylo said after another couple repetitions, his gaze predator-sharp. 

Hux sighed, gathering the eager little tickles of the Force together. Just a nudge, for as much as he liked the idea of knocking Kylo right into the wall. He flicked his hand out, directing the energy out... and felt it scatter, formless.

"You need to keep your intent focused," Kylo said.

"It's not just that," Hux said. "Something's missing."

"What could be missing? You just  _ do it." _

"If you just  _ did  _ it, I would be doing it."

"Stop overthinking why it happens, and focus on  _ making  _ it happen."

"Easy for  _ you  _ to say."

Kylo rolled his eyes and thumped Hux a little harder than necessary for that, barely gesturing. Scowling, Hux tugged on the Force, holding tight to the image of his intent, and made to swat back. Kylo didn't move at all, eyeing Hux like he was a particularly boring furball he was two seconds away from poking with a stick. 

The Force was in all things. It should be possible to move living and nonliving alike, let alone knock the smirk off Kylo's face. Fundamental.

Maybe that was the problem. Hux leaned back on his hands, considering. Maybe instead of thinking of it as sorcery, he should be considering it in terms of fundamental forces. All living things  _ generated  _ it-- as if the Force was a byproduct of the bioelectric field. But it was also sufficiently in nonliving things that the hyperdrive had been able to show him was was wrong with it... all matter had electric charges in it, even if the matter  _ itself  _ was dead neutral. Perhaps instead of thinking of it in terms of  _ physical  _ pushing... 

Hux sat up and let his awareness sink into the Force again. Like charges repelled-- he had jury-rigged enough repairs to repulsors to know. And like calibrating against a particular planet's magnetic field-- He flicked his fingers. Kylo wasn't braced at all, and almost actually fell over at Hux's shove.

"About fucking time!" Kylo said, looking unaccountably pleased with himself. "Now just do it five more times."

"My heart's desire fulfilled," Hux said dryly, and shoved Kylo again with the Force. This time he met it, shifting the tenor of the field around them both. Balanced forces-- Hux had to work to stay with it and keep Kylo from moving him, carefully not-wondering where the energy they were generating was going to go.

Telekinesis  _ was  _ a nice trick. He was never telling Anakin. He found himself smiling slowly, following Kylo's direction to send one of the crates skittering across the hold with the power behind their nascent Force-pushes.

"Told you," Kylo said with a smirk. "Overthinking it."

"On the contrary."

They traded pushes, catching on each other two more times. It was like some lunatic variation on the shoving games they used to get up to in the courtyard of wherever the creche was at the time.

"I think you have the principle. Now to try the crates," Kylo said, almost bouncing to his feet. 

"Goodbye, walls," Hux muttered, standing as well just in case something decided to ricochet unfortunately. 

"Just watch," Kylo said softly, raising his hands. The crates obediently rose as if they had been outfitted with repulsors, the configuration of the Force shifting and swirling as if the crates had  _ always  _ been floating independent of gravity. Kylo moved them around, a pleased light glittering in his eyes. 

Something in the Force shifted, a dark whisper a fraction of a second before the configuration changed again and a tight grip wrapped around Hux's chest. 

"Kylo--" Hux said, wincing as smothering force tried to crush him and choked off the words. There was a faint feral light in Kylo's eyes as the former Knight watched him. 

"You have to be  _ careful  _ with living things," Kylo purred, wrongly. "They're so much more delicate. One wrong move..."

_ Kylo!  _ Hux's mindspeech was much more practiced, and he wasn't shy about metaphorically yelling. The other man's thoughts were filling with static, and Hux had an unpleasant flashback to the  _ Finalizer, _ his first burst of psychometry.  _ Kylo, snap out of it! _

A confused, faint thread of awareness ran through the static, one that was fast transmuting to alarm, but not fast enough to keep from cutting off Hux's access to air. Hux scrabbled at the edges of Kylo's mind, but the chaotic layers of shielding that he had effected since they landed on Naboo made it difficult to break through. Desperate, Hux pulled on the Force and  _ swatted. _

Immediately Kylo let go, staggering to the side before he fell to his knees and  _ screamed  _ like a wounded animal.

"Kylo!" Hux said, gulping air as he stumbled over.

"Stay back!" Kylo said tightly, his hands fisted in his hair.  _ "Fuck!" _

"Talk to me. What the hell is going on?!" Hux said, staying just out of reach but unable to just leave.

"I missed one. I-- fuck-- just get out of here," Kylo said.

"One  _ what?" _ Hux said, trying stubbornly to link minds again. Kylo's attention was distracted inward, enough for him to get a glimpse, a phantom sensation like trying to pull out splinters lodged under the skin.

"Hook," Kylo said, shaking his head as if he could physically dislodge it. 

"Let me  _ help  _ you, idiot," Hux said, chasing after the awareness that Kylo kept trying to hide. Splinters of glass-- Kylo tore them out easily enough, but they were tricky, blended in to normal thought patterns. Hux started tagging them, kicking the alien ideas toward Kylo to deal with, until the splinters were gone and they were both shaking. 

"Ow," Kylo whined, flopping down on the decking and covering his eyes with his arm. 

"What was that?" Hux said. He was trembling as if he'd just been running for his life.

"A hook. Sleep lessens defenses," Kylo said dully. "My Master likes to send me  _ presents  _ while I dream. At least I know how to catch them, now. I didn't used to."

"Fucking hells."

_ "Nostalgia. _ It's not so bad. Wake up, brush my teeth, clean booby traps out of my head," Kylo said, "I'm sorry."

"For  _ what?" _

"Missing one. Ow. Snoke must have read what I was planning to do today."

Hux summoned the energy to lurch over to Kylo and grab him, giving the moron a good shake. Kylo flailed, snagging Hux's shoulders for balance as he shook him  _ again  _ for good measure.

"You fucking _ idiot," _ Hux snarled, "When will you get it through your head?"

"That you barely tolerate me? I knew that."

"That you. Are. A. Part. Of.  _ This. Crew." _

Kylo stared. 

"From now on, morning meditation is  _ together. _ We'll back-check your work," Hux said, "No more surprises before we set that fucking leash on fire."

"You really  _ mean  _ that." Kylo's presence was a faint curious curl in the back of Hux's thoughts, and he let the idiot see  _ exactly  _ what he was thinking. "Possessive much?"

"You have very little idea," Hux said, finally shoving Kylo out of his head before the link between them got too comfortable. He let Kylo go, lurching back to his feet. That was more than enough Force for the day. Kylo accepted his hand up, still wincing, probably nursing the beginnings of a headache. The former Knight was ridiculously prone to them, though if Snoke kept sneaking in to stir up his thoughts, no guess as to  _ why. _

"I don't see why you should bother, except..." Kylo's look turned abstracted before he flushed red. "It was your--"

"Thirtieth birthday," Hux said, finishing the thought. "And it was going  _ very well  _ until you waltzed onto my bridge."

"You don't know your birth date, and you'd known about the promotion for months," Kylo said, his eyes narrowing. "And I am not some... baby animal with a bow on."

"Thank the Force for that."

"Asshole."

"Go get painkiller in you. I don't think either of us is up for any more training today."

"Only because it's a good idea," Kylo said. He was half-smiling as he took himself out of the cargo hold. Hux watched him go and shook his head, following after. 

Coruscant couldn't come fast enough.


	17. Chapter 17

Ten kilos of skatta landing on his lap pulled Hux out of his contemplation of the extensive documentation on his datapad. Millie headbutted him in the chin hard enough to make his teeth click and chirped. He looked down, taking in the tacky streak that decorated the skatta's chin, and sighed. 

"You  _ are  _ allowed to take a day off," he told her.

Mitaka, who had been sitting across from him, ducked away and rummaged in the lower cabinets of the galley. He sighed heavily and produced Millie's latest victim-- a furball of indeterminate species that looked like at least one leg had been gnawed off. It had incisors that said maybe-rodent, and Hux made a mental note to check the wiring again when they landed. Something about it attracted furballs like nothing else. Probably the insulation needed replaced. 

"She lives up to her name," Mitaka said with a sigh as the skatta reared up and headbutted Hux again, meowing querulously until he gave in and rewarded her with scritching for completing the job. If only she'd leave her presents somewhere a  _ little  _ less obscure than the cabinets. 

"Millie?"

"Millicent," Mitaka said, "Strong work. She introduced herself by leaving a lizard in my boot."

"Ah. I suppose the galley is a step up from boots," Hux said, snorting on a laugh that quickly turned into a huff when Millie decided his petting was insufficient and flopped her full weight against his chest, wrapping her tail around his wrist for good measure. The limb was prehensile, the bottom covered in rough skin similar to her paw-pads. An adaptation for zero-g environments, according to Kylo, along with the pseudo-thumbs on her front paws that had caused no little consternation the first time she decided to make off with a high-protein ration bar right out of Phasma's pocket. It was less of a surprise to learn that skatta had excellent color vision and a decent memory for  _ where treats came from. _

Really, they were going to have to install child locks on  _ everything  _ at the rate Millie was going.

Mitaka sent the unfortunate ex-rodent down the disposal chute, to be processed along with the rest of the biological waste. Hux turned his attention to the datapad again, though it took a little doing to dodge the feline's attempts to see what was so fascinating.

"What am I looking at? Aside from a mountain of legalese? I don't have an encyclopedic knowledge of Republic statues," Hux said after a few moments of trying to keep his eyes from crossing.

"Your associate on Tatooine wasn't entirely forthcoming," Mitaka said, resettling at the table. Perhaps sensing someone more amenable to paying proper respect, Millie hopped out of Hux's lap and started campaigning with him. "It's a bounty hunting charter,  _ yes,  _ but it's  _ scalable. _ One could  _ theoretically, _ so long as one had the personnel records in acceptable format, ramp an operation up to pretty much full-on  _ free mercenary company _ scale and still possess legal authority to process prisoners in the name of Judicial. It's an old backdoor way of assembling a mercenary company without the red tape, from before the commission of the Grand Army of the Republic, but I thought the New Republic had finally  _ closed  _ that loophole when they stuffed the Galactic Concordance down everyone's necks."

"Is it  _ genuine, _ then?"

"I would recommend cross-checking all the civil servant ID numbers listed in here to be  _ sure, _ but as far as I can see?  _ Yes," _ Mitaka said. "Fill in the blanks and hit send, and we have just as much  _ legal  _ right to operate in Republic space as the Resistance does. Saves the headache of trying to sneak weapons through checkpoints, at any rate. The drawback being that we'll also be  _ visible. _ Our people will be on the rolls along with all of the other officially sanctioned bounty hunters."

Hux hummed and tapped the datapad against the table before flicking it off and setting it down carefully. "Do cross-check when we land. No sense in deciding  _ yet." _

Commotion tracked into the lounge from the cargo hold, where Hux had left Kylo fighting with his own shadow and his body's physical need for sleep. Despite the organized meditation sessions, he seemed to be bent on making them superfluous through the simple expedient of  _ never giving Snoke another opening. _

Kylo swept in on a swirl of robes, Mouse hot on his heels despite her significantly shorter stride. Fighting his shadow still seemed an apt enough description. In the low light of the ship's night-cycle, between their black clothing and Mouse's near-black skin, they looked like a pair of squabbling spirits as she waved a hypo at him.

"We know, Kylo! Everyone knows! You have literally  _ not shut up _ about it!" she said, "Just spend the night with someone and  _ take the fucking sedative _ if you have to!"

"I'll sleep when he's out of my head," Kylo spat, rounding on Mouse. It seemed to have the opposite of the desired effect, considering he jumped back not long after as Mouse made to stab him in the thigh. 

"Stay with us, stay with them, but go the fuck to sleep!" Mouse said, just as Phasma poked her head out of the berth she'd laid claim to by virtue of setting up her miniature jungle there.

"Do you need someone to protect you from the crazy hypo-woman?" Phasma teased, earning herself a glare from both of them. "What? The bulkhead's not that thick and at least one of you is projecting."

Kylo's glare migrated to a spot on the floor when Phasma gave him a significant  _ look. _ "I'm not promising anything."

"At least  _ try," _ Mouse said. "You have no idea what we'll find and what bond-breaking will entail."

"Come gossip with me," Phasma said, beckoning Kylo in. 

"Fine," he said flatly, leaping to the side just before Mouse could stab him anyway. He all but retreated after that, and Mouse headed to the table with an air very similar to Millie's. The skatta seemed to approve of the notion, since she abandoned Mitaka and nearly tripped Mouse in her eagerness to say hello.

"So. Am I going to have to stab you instead, General?" Mouse said once she'd gathered the skatta up and administered scritches.

"No. I have no intention of indulging in sleep deprivation before an operation," Hux said, rolling his eyes a little. 

"Just in case, then," Mouse said, tossing the hypo to Hux. He snatched it out of the air, checking the drug and dosage indicators.

"This is an analgesic," Hux said, eyes narrowing at Mouse.

"The placebo effect is a marvelous thing, and I'm half-sure  _ he's _ got a headache he won't tell me about.  _ Again. _ Besides. All's fair in love and hostile negotiations."

"Do not," Hux said, blanching at the edged smile Mouse gave him. Mitaka, who had reclaimed the datapad with all the lovely paperwork on it, blinked up at them both.

"Do not what? It was a funny story," Mouse said, her evil grin widening.

"I never heard that one," Mitaka said, a touch wistfully. "Just the official version."

"Have you been telling my impressionable junior officers  _ Bakura stories?" _

"Only the  _ good  _ ones."

"There was a lot of competition for positions when word got out the Wolf of Bakura was getting a fleet command," Mitaka supplied. Hux eyed the predatory flash of Mouse's grin and Mitaka's studied not-interest and sighed.

"You still fight dirty," he said, getting up.

"Hell yes I do," Mouse said, shooing him in the direction of the berths. "Go on. I expect to  _ not  _ see any of you three until morning."

Hux retreated while retreat was still a dignified option. Six months of mud, insurgents, and an invading army of pissed-off lizard-men, followed by excruciating weeks of propagandists shoving holocameras in his face while the Supreme Leader made him explain _ every article _ in the treaty he'd negotiated _ in detail. _ He still had no idea why anyone looked back on the Bakura campaign with fondness. It was a miracle they'd  _ survived. _

"Why did I think signing Mouse on was a good idea?" he asked Phasma once the door was safely shut behind him. The lady in question was stretched out in her usual bunk, under the canopy of variegated shadows cast by her plants. Kylo had apparently taken Mouse's threat to heart, half-in and half-out of his tunic. The vivid red starburst where he'd been hit with a bowcaster quarrel of all things stood out starkly against his pale skin.

"Because she was the only medic who didn't lose their mind when the angry lizard-people turned your  _ actual  _ doctor in the field into a medical droid? So you said, at least. I'm sorry I missed that one," Phasma said, giving Hux a laughing look.

"That.. explains a lot," Kylo said, shrugging the rest of the way out of the layers that made up his Knight of Ren getup before folding each carefully. 

"About  _ who?" _ Phasma said, impervious to Hux's half-hearted glare.

Rather than dignify that with a response, Hux simply went about his usual routine, or as much of usual as was  _ left. _ Bless Phasma for bringing him his personal kit-- the thermoregulating under-layers of his uniform were  _ not  _ meant to be worn alone, and the two changes of civilian-style clothing were a godsend. He still took the time to inspect everything for wear and damage, to weigh whether or not anything needed washed, or at least as washed as a cycle or two left in the sonics could accomplish.

Kylo eyed the pair of them and then sat next to Hux on the bottom bunk, apparently loath to disturb Phasma's garden. "I didn't think you meant gossip literally."

Hux made sure there was a gap of dead air between himself and Kylo-- random visions were not conducive to a good night's  _ anything-- _ and pried off his boots to have a look at them. They could use a cleaning again.

"I didn't think you enjoyed playing Misery Poker," Phasma said, folding her hands across her belly. "And I've never actually been to the Core. I suppose it'll be marvellously decadent."

"Misery Poker?" Kylo said.

"We don't have any alcohol," Hux countered as he dug cloth and leather polish out of his kit. Sand had blasted away any pretension of a shiny finish on his boots, but that was no reason to let the material dry and crack.

"We'd tie out anyway," Phasma said with a sigh before turning an avid gaze to Kylo. "Unless  _ you  _ have something interesting under those pants." Hux snorted while Kylo stared at her like she'd grown a second head.

"How do you play, if you're trying to use it as a thin excuse to get into my pants?"

"Who said I'd want to bother with  _ excuses  _ to get into someone's pants?" Phasma said.

"I'd actually like to  _ sleep  _ tonight, so no Misery Poker anyway," Hux said as Phasma got up to strip off and inspect her own gear. He paused to watch for a moment, admiring the long, lean lines of her, the fading pinks and reds of battle scars. It was a pity the ship wasn't just a  _ little  _ larger, but if Mouse had thrown down an edict that Kylo should have company for the night, it was probably just as well. Who knew what he'd end up breaking if he passed out by himself?

"I could break your nose if you're that curious," Kylo said. Hux blinked and found the thread of him in his mind before promptly  _ twanging  _ where that little bit of Kylo-ness was trying to anchor. 

"Rude," Hux said, satisfied when he felt Kylo's discomfited withdrawal. It had been happening more and more since the incident with Snoke's  _ hooks, _ small sips of awareness of what the other was thinking. It wasn't a flaw in either of their shielding, at least as much as they and, after consultation, Jinn had been able to tell.  _ Compatibility  _ was all the intelligence the ghost was able to give them. Like he and Phasma had, the same sort of easy linking that had given them the ability to finish each other's' sentences  _ before  _ the mess with the Force began.

_ Picking a fight with a black hole, _ indeed. 

The boots were clean, the comforting scent of polish heavy in the tiny berth. Hux put his gear away and escaped to the top bunk. After a while more, Phasma finished her own inspection, much abbreviated without the usual armor to polish and oil. He could almost taste the disappointment in her, the cracked-shell feeling of vulnerability, and pulled back the awareness before it could get him in  _ trouble. _ The lights were dialed back, just enough that the barest shadows of bulkheads and bunks were visible.

"What is it like?" Hux said quietly. "Coruscant?"

"The whole planet is a city," Kylo said, "And  _ yes, _ it's about as stupid as it sounds... but it's also beautiful. Skyscrapers that challenge the stratosphere. Single complexes as big as cities on other words. Speeder traffic that makes a combat scramble of your TIE squads look like nothing."

"Still a stupid idea," Hux grumbled, a dozen ways to cripple the entire planet coming to mind easily.

"If it weren't historically the seat of power in the galaxy, I'm sure everyone would have died there a dozen times over between one war and another," Kylo said. "As for the Palace... I've never been in it."

"Really?" Phasma spoke up.

"I'm sure you can guess. Psychic impressions. Not even Skywalker ever set foot in there, from what I know. The temperature around the place is almost twenty degrees below Coruscant average, and you can feel it start dropping blocks away. It's one of the few old places that don't have tourists crawling on them."

"I hope Anakin's guide is worth something, then," Hux said, thinking wistfully of the coat he'd left on the  _ Finalizer. _

"Should be," Phasma said. "Our mysterious third ghost."

"It won't be easy," Kylo said, and there was an edge of portent in his voice. "Others will know this is the logical next step. Especially after..."

"Then we deal with it," Hux said dismissively, "Though if you're that worried, you could always lose the Knight of Ren getup. I'm sure no-one will recognize you if you're looking like something  _ other  _ than a scarecrow."

"Your overconfidence is your weakness," Kylo said, a faint prickle of annoyance shivering through the air.

"It's hardly overconfidence to accept something that must be endured," Hux said. "Stop being so damn defeatist."

"I've had that bastard in my head since I was small," Kylo said acidly. "Excuse me if I don't think it's worth getting my hopes up. One man can't change destiny. I believe you're  _ familiar  _ with the idea."

Hux glared, unfocused, into the darkness. "Fuck destiny, then."

"Oh, about time," Phasma said, chuckling.

"About time  _ what?" _

"I was beginning to think being a general had domesticated you for good," she said, a tired laugh still coloring her voice. "You get reassigned for years and look what  _ happens.  _ The  _ wolf  _ starts acting like it's his first commission again."

_ "You _ just missed  _ your  _ twenty years' mark too," Hux said. "Stop laughing."

Phasma was giggling. They were all perhaps a little fuzzed at the edges, pre-battle nerves warring with the late hour. Whatever waited on Coruscant was going to be a trial, a turning point. Hopefully one in the right direction, whatever that was.

"Wait," Kylo breathed.  _ "Wait." _

"What?"

"Twenty... But you're only thirty-four."

"So?"

"What do you mean  _ so?" _

"Are you going to demonstrate your arithmetic skills all night, or are you going to produce a point?" Hux said, listening to Kylo shift in the bunk below him. 

"I-- no. I guess not," Kylo said, subdued. 

"Goodnight, then," Hux said, stifling a yawn.

"Goodnight, boys."

"Goodnight," Kylo said.

Hux lay awake for a while, listening to the others breathe, feeling out the hum of the ship and the lights of Mitaka and Mouse moving out of the lounge and into their berth, sensing Millie resume her exploration of the conduits. Coruscant. He hoped they were ready.


	18. Chapter 18

Coruscant was an acrophobic's nightmare. Not only was the entire planet city, but some  _ great genius _ had decided that the only course of action left was to build up as high as possible. The ground had to be kilometers below Hux's feet. 

He was accustomed to metal decking underfoot, but this was something else entirely. Spires piled on top of each other in such profusion that he sincerely hoped the planet was geologically dead. It was gaudy, tacky, vulnerable to both traditional attack and infrastructure breakdown, and crammed so full of beings from every planet in the galaxy that it made his skin crawl, well past the sort of population density that bred insanity in even the most sociable species. That wasn't even  _ thinking  _ about what went on in the lightless understories, where the desperate crowded as the desperate must. A single picture of the place could serve as an entire report of _ things that are wrong with the Republic. _

Kylo had point, weaving them through the crowds on the upper levels unerringly toward the former-Palace-former-Temple. Its spires towered over everything else in the district, but the walkways and speeder-lanes formed a maze between the transit station from the spaceport and the place proper. Phasma had the rear guard, armed with only her lightsaber. They'd had to resort to easily concealed personal weapons-- a rifle might be more  _ useful, _ but the idea was to stay inconspicuous. Hux and Mitaka were in the middle, the latter armed primarily with a monstrously overbuilt datapad and an entire bag of empty chips. Mouse remained behind to resupply and guard the ship, and just the thought made Hux sigh. She'd done her best to keep him behind, and he did  _ appreciate  _ her concern, but this was something he had to see through.

He was grateful for the cowl Kylo had dropped unceremoniously over his head-- they'd all traded gear as much as their respective sizes allowed, just to further confuse their identities, not that it seemed necessary in the crazy quilt of tourists they'd fallen in with. The sunlight of a spring morning reflected crazily off the glass and durasteel of Coruscant's superstructure, knifing into his eyes at unpredictable intervals as they passed through the shadows of towers. 

It was also  _ cold, _ he realized with a start, much colder than the transit stop had been.

"How close are we?" he said.

"Not far. Anyone following us?" Kylo said, glancing back.

"No."

They lapsed into quiet as the warren opened up into a huge square, easily large enough to hold a Star Destroyer and all its legions of stormtroopers in review. Which it probably  _ had, _ more than once. There was frost on the ferrocrete, a swirled blanket of crystals undisturbed by footprints.

"Charming place," Mitaka said. There were black streaks near the base of the five towers, legacy of a massive fire-- for a split-second Hux could  _ see  _ it, smoke rising for miles in a choking cloud across the night sky. They'd found the main entrance, across the square and up a gauntlet of steps that was probably quite effective in turning away casual visitors.

"Any idea where the archive is?" Phasma said, eyeing the frost and the climb in equal measure. They would be out in the open for a long time, either way.

"Near the top of the main ziggurat," Kylo said. "I don't think the Emperor would have had reason to bother moving them. Hopefully the power's still on."

"One thing at a time. Let's go," Hux said, shivering as they stepped out into the frost. Their progress was slow, hampered by the consensus need to keep an eye on their backs. The chill deepened until their breath misted the air, but held steady when they made it up to the top of the steps, past the plinths that looked like they once held statues. So close to the entrance, it was easier to make out the carbon scoring of blaster bolts, the gouges where the door's other stone guardians had been removed. The lack of ostentation gave the whole thing a sinister air.

The power was still on. 

The former Temple-- Hux could understand Anakin's choice of reference now, the pillars shattered during the Purge undisturbed-- was empty, echoing. Their footsteps sounded like shots from a slugthrower as they crept past more signs of a protracted firefight. A few, sad, rusty inkblots stained the sand-colored stone. Bloodstains.

It came from nowhere, after all. The sleepy young things-- just old enough for field service-- were in the process of being relieved by older figures obscured by robes when the black-cloaked man strode up, the distinctive armor of the 501st Legion on the troopers at his heels. Nothing to worry about, except perhaps potential damage to the dining hall if things got rowdy, until the arclight of blue that said  _ lightsaber  _ appeared. It was the little ones who divined what was going to happen first, and they screamed until they could not anymore, distress bouncing crazily through the Force as each small light was snuffed out with ruthless efficiency.

The world tilted crazily, memories from a hundred perspectives overlaying one another, and all overlain with a haze of  _ how-could-they _ and  _ I-should-have-been-there, _ final moments flickering ghostly over the memory of bodies littering the entrance hall. He was sure he had been shot, that a lightsaber's raw arc of plasma had sliced off a warding hand. That he should have died with them, he should have  _ drowned  _ on that godsforsaken rock--

_ Hux! _

Kylo. His mental voice was a thin safety line, struggling through the weight of the past, but Hux grabbed for it all the same. The world shifted again, warm shoulders under his arm and a moment of utter triumph as a pair of  _ boxer shorts _ ascended the creche flagpole on some forested world he didn't recognize, a move that must have happened after  _ he'd _ transferred to Academy.

He binked again, the absurd memory loud enough to push away the miasma of death in the air. Mitaka was half-holding him up, Kylo on his other side, as if he'd almost fallen face-first. The hall was empty of both clone troopers and dead bodies, but ragged breathing filled the silence.

"I'm all right," he ground out, shaking his head to try and shake off the last of the memory intrusion. The shorts took their time dissipating, and Hux belatedly realized it was because Mitaka was actively  _ thinking  _ them at him. Force bless the man. He really  _ was  _ a white noise machine.

"Can you walk?" Kylo said. Hux nodded, layered his shields until the whole world felt muffled in cotton wool, and got his feet properly under him again. He was clammy with sweat, faintly nauseated, but the past was keeping to itself.  _ Mostly. _ He could still hear screaming and blaster shots, tinny with distance, as if a battle was being fought a floor or two up. Probably it  _ had  _ been.

"We had better take the most direct route," Phasma said,  _ "Death _ walks here. It wasn't just the Purge."

Kylo nodded when Hux glanced at him for confirmation, his jaw set such that his teeth were probably grinding. "There was a wellspring here. Stone and water," he said, eyes focused elsewhere. "We'd best  _ avoid  _ the underlevels, and the central spire."

"I guess our new friend is late?" Mitaka said, as they all eyed the empty hall. There were lifts, past some of the rubble, but the place was big enough they could get lost for days.

"Not if you are ready to go." The ghost materialized slowly, features hidden so completely by the enveloping over-robe favored by Jedi that only his voice offered a clue to his identity besides height, which was dead near humanoid average. He stood near one of the lifts with the air of one who could wait all day if need be. 

"Who are you?" Phasma said.

"Your guide," the ghost said simply, "If you're done standing around like children on a dare."

"Personable," Phasma said, taking point. Hux pried himself loose from Mitaka and Kylo's custody of his arms and followed after, the pair of them taking up rear guard. 

"This is not a comfortable place for the dead, either," the ghost said as they waited for the lift to recall itself. 

"Grandfather did this," Kylo said, subdued, casting glances around as the lift chirped its progress at them.

"Some of it. Sidious finished it when he decided to make this his palace," the ghost said, nodding. 

"The wellspring."

"The Jedi can never call this place their home again. Even without what Sidious did later, the Purge poisoned the wellspring with darkness that would have lasted lifetimes, if it ever lifted. But why ask me? You know," the ghost said, fixing his attention on Kylo as the lift signaled its arrival. 

"Yavin was different," Kylo said softly.

_ "Was _ it?" The ghost said sharply.

"Yell later," Phasma said, with an arch look at the ghost, and stepped in the lift, holding it for them. "Which button? Or you can kindly fuck off if you're just here to deliver a lecture." 

Hux followed her, tugging Mitaka around the ghost so that he couldn't accidentally step through. Kylo remained rooted to the spot, staring down the ghost.

"I didn't have anyone I was trying to  _ protect," _ Kylo said finally, and swept in after them. The ghost huffed softly.

"Top floor north. I'll meet you." He disappeared without further comment, and Phasma rolled her eyes as she stabbed the correct label.

"This is worse than comms monitoring," Mitaka said with a sigh. "But all the same, I think I'd rather only hear half the conversation. No offense, but you all look ill."

"The wellspring isn't just a fancy fountain, though there is one," Kylo said, leaning against the wall of the lift and tilting his head back as the floors ticked by, fast enough to make Hux's ears pop. "It's a spring in the Force, like groundwater collecting and bubbling up. In this case, it's a wellspring of the Dark Side."

"It can't be," Hux said.

"Why not?"

"Because  _ you're  _ as bad as the rest of us," he said, cautiously testing the edges of his shields. The whole Temple seemed swamped with memory, flickers of the Purge interspacing themselves with memories of a wizened man in a black hood, emotional impressions of dark cheer like an oil slick as they flashed by.

"I would have thought you'd just tell me I'm a shitty Sith," Kylo said with a faint twist of his lips. 

"Maybe you are, but no, I get it," Phasma said. "This is all... twisted around. It's not natural. A ship's  _ reactor  _ leaking into a spring, not a dead animal sitting in it. You'd have to have a  _ serious  _ desire to glow in the dark to  _ want  _ to hang around here."

"Until it killed you," Mitaka said cheerfully, earning a glare from Kylo. "What?"

"I ought to make you tell us about the shorts," Kylo said, smirking as Mitaka flushed red.

"Wait. Shorts?" Phasma said.

"When we're out of here," Hux said with a sigh. They were at their destination. The lift opened directly on a cavernous hall, lined to an almost claustrophobic extent with shelves that loomed overhead. Each was crammed with holobooks, solid stripes of blue that indicated full charge. The stacks bore plaques full of numbers and letters, some kind of classification system that seemed unique to the Jedi Archives.

The ghost stood a way off, in the middle of the central rotunda, his robe swishing half-in the corner of a study desk. Mitaka had the look of a child who had made off with a whole crate of candy.

"They're locked," the ghost said, before Mitaka could snatch one of the books off the shelves. "Well, more accurately, none of this will be any use to you."

"Wait," Hux said, and Mitaka stilled as the ghost's warning was repeated.

"A master scramble key?" Mitaka said, "Yeah.. that would be the only way to ensure security on this kind of system. No central server, no way to reconstruct what information the holobooks had when they got scrambled unless you had your own copies and the patience to go through  _ every last damn one. _ Antiquated as hell, but effective."

"It took Sidious a few years to realize that the Archives were tampered with," the ghost said, a certain grim satisfaction in his tone. "I'm told that when he subsequently learned that no one had the capacity to  _ un-tamper _ them, it was quite spectacular."

"I presume you do have the capacity?" Hux said. Phasma and Kylo drifted off, Phasma to pace out a perimeter and Kylo frowning after something or other-- Hux had a vague notion that the man was preoccupied with something, but between the  _ past  _ and the  _ wellspring  _ it was hard to perceive more. It wouldn't take that many of them to fix the problem, regardless.

"I have the codes. This way," the ghost said. Mitaka remained close behind as they wound their way to the wide curve of a circulation desk. It took moments to wake the central computers and type in the authorizations the ghost quietly murmured while Mitaka brought up his datapad and started the task of patching it in to the central system.

The blue light washed over the Archives blinked out, leaving behind shadows and dusty sunlight for a ten count before color drifted back into the stacks. Reboot complete.

"If that's all--" the ghost said, just as Mitaka's eyes went wide and he shoved the datapad through the ghost and into Hux's hands.

"We have to check this out!" Mitaka said. Hux took a moment to orient and actually read the pad's contents, his own eyebrows climbing as he took it all in.

"A security-blanked zone?" Hux said, shifting the map Mitaka had pulled so he could get a better look at it.

"High-security records? It might be the Emperor's private library. It's just past this wing," Mitaka said, grinning with the sort of manic energy Hux normally associated with going into a firefight. "We don't lose much if I slice the lock. I wouldn't know what to look for here."

"Sith documents often contain traps for the unwary--" the ghost started.

"And Mitaka is as Force-sensitive as a rock," Hux finished. "We might as well go have a look. We might not find what we're looking for in the records of  _ Jedi." _

They went, the ghost trailing behind in a cloud of very obvious disapproval. Mitaka's secure zone turned out to be a hallway down from the Archive proper, the doors fitted with a bioscan system that was only thirty years out of date instead of really antique like the rest of the place. It was also apparently Kylo's destination, since he had his hand hovering a few centimeters from the door panel and an air of concentration.

"All that work unlocking the damn place and you're  _ here,"  _ Hux said, rolling his eyes as Mitaka practically danced up. Red light flickered down from the sensor at the top of the door-- bioscan readings, though how picky was an open question. The door wasn't convenient enough to open for Mitaka, who bent over the panel with his datapad.

"I remembered something grandfather said," Kylo said, shrugging and stepping back. "About how he thought his wife died on Mustafar. They were bonded, and clearly she lived longer, so..."

"They obviously didn't  _ choose  _ it," Hux said.

"A broken lifebond," the ghost said softly, "Can bleed someone to death as surely as a cut throat."

"Let's make that plan B, then," Kylo said, shuddering.

"Damn, this thing is good," Mitaka said, prying up the door's access panel. "I can't coax an access code out of this-- looks like the Emperor locked it to specific individuals and no one else."

"Can you pull a list of who?" Hux said, coming over to observe the nest of wiring Mitaka was busy pulling out of the wall. 

"I might be able to short it and manually override.. I can't believe he'd just be all right with locking himself in," Mitaka said.

"I could just  _ open  _ it," Kylo said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, but we don't know if it's the kind of door that slags itself in place if you try to force it," Mitaka said. Hux leaned over his shoulder, the light of a bioscan playing over him as it had Mitaka.

The door panel flashed green from where it was hanging off its wiring, and the door swished open, almost primly.

"What the  _ fuck?" _ Mitaka said.

"Is it malfunctioning?" Hux said, swallowing. His last conversation with Snoke came to mind, unpleasantly.  _ Why  _ might an orphan toddler be found in one of the Emperor's private retreats? Snoke's benevolent smile-- _ I thought they'd been defending treasure, the poor fools, but no... _

"I.. no. You must be in the system."

The library was dimly lit, so much so that it reminded Hux of the darkness of one of Snoke's holocalls. It was also remarkably prosaic on the inside-- books of both the paper and holo variety arranged neatly on shelves, a computer bank, chairs near light sources for reading and a desk that had an old paper book open on it, spidery handwriting scrawled across the page in a language and letter system wholly unfamiliar to Hux.

He had eyes only for the computer bank. If his bioscan was in the system of a place  _ he'd never been...  _

"Are you sure?" Kylo murmured, almost in Hux's ear. 

"About what?" Hux said, half-turning away from the keyboard before he could touch it.

"A little knowledge can be dangerous."

"I hate leaving puzzles unsolved," Hux said, and flicked the keys to activate the monitor. 

A hologram shuddered to life-- bent almost in half with age or ill health, cloaked head to toe in a black robe save for his jaw, which was deeply lined. The Emperor, Darth Sidious.

"I suppose you must have amounted to something after all," the hologram said, expression twisting into a parody of a smile. "My heir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret nothiiiiiiing.


	19. Chapter 19

Hux closed his eyes and mentally recited all the filthiest insults he knew, which amounted to quite a list, curated lovingly over a lifetime of warfare. When he opened his eyes, reality was much as it had been before the short break-- hologram of the Emperor, cold so bone-deep that not even Kylo's ridiculous cowl was able to keep the tips of his ears from freezing, and shock practically radiating from Mitaka and Kylo, who had gone with him into the Emperor's private library.

The fucking hologram,  _ of fucking course, _ started talking again, timed almost to the second that he was finished confirming that  _ yes, _ apparently his life  _ could  _ develop more melodrama. Sidious had actually _ timed it _ to let that lovely announcement sink in. If the fucker wasn't already dead, Hux would be tempted to shoot him on  _ general principle. _

"I suppose if this message is playing, my useless apprentice actually  _ succeeded  _ in his attempt at insurrection," Sidious said breezily, "Are you watching as well, Lord Vader?"

A muttered curse drew Hux's attention off the hologram-- not that it mattered, since smug and self-congratulatory had only so many variations. The ghost was glaring, obvious even with the hood hiding all but a hint of beard. His emotions were tightly shielded, strange after Hux had been pressed to  _ avoid  _ knowing exactly how Anakin felt at a given moment. 

"I'm surprised you didn't kill the boy the moment you discovered him. Are you truly getting  _ sentimental  _ in your old age?  _ Still  _ sulking over General Kenobi's death, perhaps?" Sidious said, "I will admit to a certain...  _ pleasure  _ in the idea of twisting his young successor. It's why I had him commissioned. But if you can't even handle your  _ own  _ idiot children..."

"He did  _ not," _ the ghost breathed, shoving the hood down abruptly, eyes wide in apparent shock. General Kenobi-- he had featured in enough holos from Hux's history and tactics classes, though the lack of audio in them explained why he hadn't placed the voice. Had Snoke  _ known? _ So many innocuous comments from his early career had an extra, sinister dimension. 

"Or do I perhaps have the pleasure of addressing the  _ younger  _ Skywalker?" Sidious continued with an amused cackle. "I would not have thought you had it  _ in  _ you, unless you have stumbled in here on some misguided mercy mission. The master becomes the student indeed. Foolish Jedi."

Kylo was shaking. Hux glanced over at him to see that he was covering his mouth with his hand, a faint sheen in his eyes, which crinkled at the corners-- the bastard was trying to stifle  _ laughter. _

_ You-- _ Hux began, mindspeech as easy as breathing. 

_ It's only fair. It's your turn, _ Kylo shot back, even his thoughts unsteady with what felt suspiciously like  _ giggling. _

_ I'm sure your fantasies of living up to Vader's legacy have  _ nothing  _ to do with it. _

Kylo broke at that, laughter both breathless and  _ infectious  _ spilling out from behind his fingers as the absurdity of the whole fucking mess came down on them both, realization pinging across the open link. It was stupid. Ridiculously, gloriously  _ stupid. _ What were the fucking  _ odds? _

_ Says Mister Build-a-Better-Death-Star. _ Telepathic laughter was even  _ worse  _ than the real kind, shivery and warm by turns.

_ General to you, Darth Tantrum. _ Hux was laughing, and not even the oppressive atmosphere could tamp it down. If anything, standing in the ruins like this was  _ even more stupid. _

_ General Build-a-Better-Death-Star. _

_ If you want to count babysitting as building, sure, _ he sent, trying to catch his breath. The hologram was  _ still talking, _ something vague about how letting the boy--  _ him-- _ live was going to be a terrible mistake, but just the  _ sound  _ of Sidious's voice sent the whole thing back in motion again.

_ What did I miss? _ Phasma sent, the sound of her footsteps pelting down the hall coming clear soon after she slid into their conversation. The door was still open, and she poked her head in with a curious look.  _ You're cackling like hydriks and Mitaka looks like weapons resupply came  _ early.

_ Let's play it again! _ Kylo sent-- he was still snickering, his breath uneven after almost crying with laughter. And indeed, Sidious had  _ finally  _ wound down, the hologram vanished in favor of displaying the console's nested file structure.

"We can play it when we're  _ out  _ of here," Hux said, breathing slowly to try and stifle the last hints of mirth. They did need to get moving-- their whole purpose for infiltrating the damn place wasn't even  _ started  _ yet. "Mitaka--"

"As long as the door doesn't lock, I can strip this thing," Mitaka said, grinning toothily. "But you do realize what this means, right?"

"What?" Phasma said.

"That message along with the bioscan lock is grounds to sue for control of the Imperial Fleet," Mitaka said. "Rightful heir."

"If we ever need to give the Grand Admirals' Council a collective aneurysm..." Hux said, shaking his head slowly.

"Wait, what?" Phasma said, before Kylo did  _ something  _ and she was slapping her hand over her mouth to try and stifle her  _ own  _ round of cackling. Kylo didn't bother, and the two lunatics leaned on each other while they dragged their control back.

"You're taking it well," Kenobi said, more than a little shaken.

"I'm not about to resent my existence over something  _ that stupid," _ Hux said, shrugging faintly. "And if I was  _ created  _ to serve as a game piece in an elaborate revenge plot... it's  _ anticlimactic  _ after being a game piece in an elaborate revenge plot."

"When you put it  _ that  _ way..." Phasma said, waving her hand as she tried to catch her breath between words. Kenobi merely  _ sighed, _ shaking his head slowly before he padded out, probably back to the Archive where things were at least debatably more sane.

"Let's do what we came for," Kylo said reluctantly, wiping his eyes and meeting Hux's gaze with unfettered amusement.

Thankfully, despite his generally erratic behavior, Kylo did indeed understand the basics of conducting research. As the only one fluent in Sith, he was given custody of the paper books. Mitaka dumped the contents of the console-- it primarily pertained to the various mundane plots Sidious had been working on-- and then joined Phasma in the Archive proper. Hux lingered with Kylo for a moment, since a good percentage of the console's records pertained to  _ him  _ after the logs from a string of failed cloning experiments. 

Cloning a Force-sensitive, it turned out, was damn near impossible. Something about cloning never turned out a  _ perfect  _ duplicate to begin with, but whatever phenomenon led to developing Force abilities seemed to get  _ confused  _ by more than one individual with the same genome existing at the same time, to the detriment of all involved. Not even natural clones could do the trick--  _ fraternal  _ twins weren't uncommon among the rolls of the Jedi, but there were no known Force-sensitives who happened to be  _ identical  _ twins, and someone had actually taken the time to trace lineage records back an obscene amount of time to confirm it. Why Sidious had been trying to clone himself was a mystery, probably related to whatever scheme he had obliquely referenced in that self-congratulatory hologram, but the best he had been able to do was combine his DNA with another's and ensure that some obscure set of gene-markers were present. Obi-Wan Kenobi just happened to be the second donor.

There had been a special note to make sure that Hux inherited the copper red hair-- Sheev Palpatine had apparently been a blond-- and the eye color, changeable blue-green-grey like the sea in a storm. The excessive description read like lines from amature poetry. After he found _ that, _ Hux was more than happy to shut off the console and read Jedi natterings until his eyeballs bled. 

He was going to need a  _ shower  _ after this place.

It didn't take long for Kylo to join them in the Archive proper, muttering darkly about the whole Sith Order being batshit insane egocentrics who never heard of  _ getting to the point. _ Hux let that one go.  _ Too easy. _

Kenobi drifted between them, offering references that wouldn't show up in keyword searches and unlock codes whenever anyone ran into something that demanded one. He was quiet, subdued even compared to earlier, when he'd been preoccupied with needling Kylo. There again, finding out that Darth Sidious apparently had the  _ worst  _ crush on you was bound to be terrible for one's mental state. Hux let that one go, too. If Kenobi wanted to pretend all of that never happened, it was  _ fine  _ by him.

The light streaming into the upper windows shifted white and then gold, circling the Archive at a leisurely pace. The first oranges of sunset were touching the elaborately tiled floor when, finally, they had an  _ answer. _

An answer and a rock, actually. 

Despite the fact that the rock, fist-sized and diamond-like and glowing gently, had been found in a shielded box locked with Council-only codes, ostensibly immune to the creeping taint of the wellspring, Kylo looked distinctly uncomfortable as he held it. He shifted it carefully from hand to hand, as if it was just this side of too hot or cold to handle. 

"So the magic rock--" Hux began, just to be sure. 

"Healing crystal," Kenobi said tiredly, not that Hux cared. 

"Magic rock will be able to burn out the training bond without scrambling your head, but it may not stop because?"

"Powerful Light artifact. I am strong in the Dark Side. Think about what happens when everything else of opposite nature comes together.  _ Boom," _ Kylo said, pulling a face. 

"Sort of a shitty healing crystal if it might melt the patient's brain anyway," Mitaka said. 

"It won't," Kenobi said, a sentiment he'd  _ repeated  _ since they unlocked the box holding the rock. "Nobody would have bothered to try stealing it so many times if its use was truly limited to Jedi."

"Still beats anything else we have," Phasma said, partially for Mitaka's benefit. 

"Fine.  _ Fine, _ just shut up and let me concentrate," Kylo said, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He settled in a half-lotus on top of the study table they were all gathered around, the gem resting in palms, and closed his eyes with a shuddering breath. Hux felt his presence withdraw, directed inward. 

"How long will it take?" Phasma asked. 

"It depends," Kenobi said, "The idea of a Sith coming  _ back  _ was suppressed so long the records we have are suspect. The policy for over a thousand years was to destroy the darkened."

"Hard to believe the paragons of peace and light would have a shoot first policy," Hux said.

"The danger of believing yourself to be beyond something is that it is then free to walk right up to you and sucker-punch you when you least expect it. Repeatedly, even," Kenobi said wearily. "I would just like to stop watching the past repeat itself."

"Which part?" Hux said, watching Kylo twitch faintly as he did whatever he was doing. The crystal threw out interference, like a cocoon in the Force.

"I could settle for just seeing a world where Force ability wasn't a guarantee of an early, violent death. Galactic war holding off for a generation or two would also be nice." Kenobi looked at Hux sideways. 

"I'm not sure that the First Order never existing would have prevented  _ that," _ he said, rolling his eyes a little. 

"No," Kenobi said with a nod.

"That's the refrain, isn't it?" Phasma said thoughtfully. "The Force is out of balance.  _ Always  _ out of balance, seems like. I could see it affecting people, making them more likely to fight. All kinds of other weird environmental factors can do it, so why not?"

"And we play out the sickness in the Force," Kenobi said, grimly. "The thought crossed my mind."

"Cheery," Hux said, leaning over the low back of his chair and feeling his spine pop. He would be glad to never see this place again, honestly.

"The longer we're here, the more glad I am that the space wizard bit skipped me," Mitaka said with a sigh, sorting the pile of datachips he had into stacks for packing into their cases. At least the expedition had been successful, and they wouldn't  _ have  _ to see the place again. Schematics for Jedi gear and weaponry, a full set of basic learner texts on the Force, healer-specific references for Mouse, and anything they could find even  _ tangentially  _ related to Sith-hunting filled the collection, along with the records from Sidious's private console. A fine foundation for the campaign that was ahead of them, even if they could have filled twice as many more datachips. All of them Mitaka stowed in protective cases, ready for their perusal when they were away from Coruscant.

Kylo hissed, drawing Hux's attention. His body seemed frozen, but his face was twisted with pain.

"Kylo?" Hux said, getting up and prodding the cocoon with the Force in the same motion. Kylo didn't move, but his presence snatched at the line of awareness and inquiry, tugging with desperate strength.

_ Snoke. It-- _ Kylo's mental voice was strained, weak as if he was shouting down a corridor. 

_ What? _ Hux sent, holding himself against that pull, like the inexorable tug of gravity.

_ The artifact. The bond. I can't-- not both! _

He felt like a battleground. The artifact was burning the bond, but it was deeply rooted and Snoke was attacking through the anchor, a hurricane of sharp black shadows. Light searing painfully at darkness while darkness slashed through light, both powerful forces too busy attacking  _ Kylo  _ to hit each other. The artifact could be directed, Hux could feel that, but Kylo's assessment was right-- he couldn't do it alone. Either he would have to give up, or the power tearing at him would kill him, and  _ resignation  _ filled the link with bitter ash. It was like the waking dream of Hux's first vision. Nothing mattered, and maybe it was his fate to burn up in the Force--

_ I can shield you. _ Hux gritted his teeth against the quicksand of Kylo's despair, digging himself into the real world as he peeled his gloves off. Touch seemed to boost his abilities, and even if his protections couldn't  _ stop  _ Snoke at his worst, it would buy time.

_ If you do that you'll-- _ Kylo's thought stuttered, caught on hope and an odd frustration, and he tried again.  _ Your fate will be the same as mine. _

_ I know, _ Hux sent. They'd been days batting away threads of the Force any time their minds touched. Before Kylo could try to protest again, he gathered himself and climbed on the table, pressing his fingers to Kylo's temples and letting the current between them drag him in. He was peripherally aware of commotion, but the pull of the Force dragged him past concern for it.

They were the eye of the storm. 

Hux spun every protection he knew, layers on layers in the same frantic race as that fateful meeting with Snoke. Armor and safety and misdirection. Shields that let power roll off like water and shields that took it in and used it for reinforcement. Shields to hide and shields to muffle out the overwhelming input of the world. Wove them tight around the nexus that was the pair of them, buying Kylo the time he needed to recover from the battering that tried to eat through them with single minded purpose. 

The Force was there, with them, weaving glittering trails of gossamer and durasteel, framing and foundation as the howling whirlwind tore at shields Hux struggled to keep up. It was like marching through thornbushes, little pieces of himself tearing at the edges as the assault went on. Kylo was weaving back into the fight, yanking on the searing light to stop its useless gnawing on him as the howling gale tried to tear them apart, shifting it so  _ slowly  _ into a new configuration on sheer  _ instinct  _ and--

_ Green.  _ The green of life, of the creatures that took to the stars, of the weeds that rose defiant no matter how much poison was laid down, of the tiniest invisible beings that could between them transform an entire planet. The green of life-death, creation-destruction, and  _ yes, _ light-dark, never  _ ending  _ and always  _ changing. _

It was like a circuit closing, everything coming together and  _ perfect. _

The crystal's light transmuted into something breathtaking, motes of verdant power dissolving the black thing that was Snoke's presence with startling speed, until it was  _ gone  _ like smoke in the wind. The light danced between them, the Force singing sweetly and sending warmth back into Hux's skin. 

He could feel Kylo's incredulity that the light was doing the same for him, along bond-threads that shone all on their own. It was a wonder he didn't feel attenuated, with the piece of himself suddenly gone to occupy a section of  _ Kylo's _ soul, but it seemed that the little bit of Kylo-ness that had settled in its place was a close enough exchange. 

Physical awareness crept in. They were leaning on each other, foreheads touching as they both gasped for air and finished sorting out  _ who  _ was supposed to be  _ where. _ A headache thumped behind Hux's eye, instantly recognizable as overextension-- it was like his  _ self  _ was one giant bruise.

_ You might have my headache, _ Kylo sent, exhaustion-blurred, and Hux could feel  _ that  _ too. 

_ Let's go home. _ The ship was a wonderful idea, even if it meant the certainty of enduring Mouse's snarling for being fucking idiots before she let either of them have painkiller and sleep it off.

_ Home. Yes. _ The immediacy of the bond began to ebb, awareness settling into something more like a song playing low in a small room-- the music always  _ present, _ but easy to allow to fade into the very background.

Hux opened his eyes and watched Kylo set the crystal down very carefully on the table.

"Please stop emulating your grandfather. Or  _ me," _ Kenobi said. Hux's eyes cut sideways to see a blurry blue specter practically hovering over them both. Kenobi backed off once Kylo growled something that did not resemble Basic but that Kenobi apparently understood and had reason to smile lopsidedly at.

"Is it over?" Mitaka asked, prudently keeping out of reach.

"Yes," Hux said, slowly levering himself back to something more vertical. "Where's Phasma?"

The woman in question ran up to them, shadows shifting wildly in the illumination of her ignited lightsaber. "Thank the stars. We have to get out of here."

"Who?" Kylo said, gaze sharpening.

"I crossed blades with a Knight. There are probably more, and local guard are trying to cordon off the temple," Phasma said. "Barricaded my back-trail but we only have--"

Kylo slid off the table, calling his lightsaber to him and igniting it in a smooth motion. There was a shadow, moving up the wide concourse, and with a snap-hiss it painted itself in red 'saber light. Hux knew the helmet-- Celes Ren, back for more.

"Oh  _ no," _ she said, "Looks like time's up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where I let you all know that this story owes a nice karmic debt to [flamethrower](http://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower) and her Re-Entry series. I could not resist Sidious having that crush on Obi-Wan, and also her take on some of the post-Ruusan fuckery in the Jedi being a good example of that's not how the Force is supposed to work! If you like this story, you will love [Re-Entry.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/10129)


	20. Chapter 20

_ How long until their reinforcements are in position? _ Hux sent to Phasma as Kylo stalked forward, intent on Celes Ren. He could feel anger crackle and build through the bond, and spared a brief moment to worry about how he was going to peel Kylo  _ away  _ from that fight. Celes might be a threat, but they couldn't afford to get pinned down.

_ They're in standard riot control gear. I suspect the plan may be to flush us out, _ she replied. _ We need another exit. They were setting up cordons, so we have only a few minutes to break through the barriers. _

"The underlevels," Kenobi murmured, "You'll have to run."

"Having a retirement party and you forgot to invite me?" Celes said, ending on a laugh.

"I see that didn't stop you," Kylo said, parking himself between her and the rest of them like the stubborn nit he was.

"I suppose I'll just have to do the honors," Celes said, swinging her blade in a lazy arc to cover the way her hand snapped out with a Force-shove. Kylo caught the power, not even twitching from his own ready position, energy struggling for dominance before finally shunting to the side and spiderwebbing the windows with cracks. Windows which, given Coruscant's traffic, had to be transparisteel and not glass at all. 

Some idiot on what passed for the ground was yelling into a loudspeaker. What they hoped to accomplish when their audience was a kilometer up and indoors was a mystery.

_ Follow Kenobi, _ Kylo broke into the mental conversation,  _ I'll hold her off.  _

_ Slewing wildly into half-baked heroics-- _ Hux sent, snagging Mitaka's arm as the other man shifted, pistol in a white-knuckled grip. Cover fire was a laudable impulse, but misplaced when a blaster bolt could so easily become a weapon in Celes's hands.

_ Look, if she can actually kick my ass, the two of you are  _ fucked. _ She was a Master of the Knights of Ren when I  _ started. _ Let me do this. Think of  _ Mitaka.

_ Don't stay on our account, _ Phasma sent sternly, along with the vivid image of her dragging Kylo out by the scruff. In reality, he batted aside another telekinetic push, which hit the stacks and made the whole structure groan.

_ Find us wings. I'll meet you.  _ I promise. _ Go! And be careful!  _  Hux felt the vague outline of a plan shoved rudely into his head-- the cracked windows, the twin presences Kylo noticed closing in on them, familiar-unfamiliar in a way that said trouble. Phasma must have gotten it as well, her mental eye-roll at more of the  _ usual  _ loud and clear, her tentative tag of one of the presences as the Knight she'd met earlier less reassuring.

Lightsabers clashed, throwing sparks, the combatants lit by the bloody light of their blades as they finally got in reach of each other. Celes was a faceless helmet but he could swear she was grinning, savoring her victory before it was won as she tested Kylo's resolve not to let her through.

_ Idiot. Don't you  _ dare  _ die, _ Hux sent.

"There are more of them. We need wings," Hux murmured to Mitaka as he and Phasma gathered their slicer in their wake, bolting for the main corridors. Kenobi shivered into view, teleporting somehow to the junctions in the corridors ahead to point the way. The sound of the lightsaber duel faded, though Hux kept the bond open on his end-- it was the only sure way to know what was going on.

Phasma quickly dashed ahead, using the Force to lighten her steps, and thus she was in position when another black-cloaked figure materialized out of the shadows to ambush them. Her green blade flicked to life, and the new Knight raised theirs only just in time to avoid being decapitated. The pair traded a fast flurry of blows, Phasma's fierce joy echoing through the open link he held with her.

"I believe we were interrupted," the shadow said in a monotone too dead to just be a vocoder, slashing out. Phasma twisted just in time to make it a miss, narrowly avoiding having her arm off. 

"My dance card is a little full," Phasma said, feinting and kicking out when the Knight seemed to go for it. Her boot caught a glancing blow to the helmet, and Phasma followed up with a two-handed swing that the Knight only just managed to get her lightsaber in front of. Phasma pushed them both back a few steps.

"So who  _ do  _ I have the pleasure of killing tonight?" Phasma said.

A flicker of blue in a side-junction-- Kenobi was trying to route them another way. Thunder rumbled somewhere, but all Hux could pick up from Kylo was a sense of frantic activity and the white noise of his shielding. 

"It's been a while since I've met a nervous talker," the Knight said as the pair broke into another rapid-fire clash, moving just short of too fast to see. 

"Missed mirrors, have you?" Phasma said.

They needed to go, but  _ hunch  _ said that to split themselves further was an invitation to disaster. Hux pulled himself and Mitaka into the slim cover of one of the corridor supports. 

"Covering fire," he hissed into Mitaka's ear. "Be sure of your mark."

"The third Knight?" Mitaka said, already sighting down the barrel of his blaster. 

"Incoming, I--  _ yes," _ Hux said, feeling  _ presence  _ slither into the hall before the guest of honor arrived. This one was humanoid but not human by Hux's estimation, towering more than a head over Hux and wide enough to be mistaken for a mobile wall. The series of clicks the Knight emitted solidified the impression, though he couldn't place the species with the grid-patterned helmet in the way. This one was different, too, in that they were clutching a force pike instead of a lightsaber. Kylo had said  _ Master  _ like it meant something...

He really should have gotten a briefing out of Kylo at some point about the other Knights besides  _ oh yes there are some more of those. _ Too late for it now.

"Sir?" Mitaka said, trying to watch both Knights of Ren at the same time. Phasma was still holding her own against her opponent, trying to bait the Knight into over-extending, but this one wasn't as reckless a duelist as Kylo had been. The walking wall was taking their time, the pike activating with an electric crackle. 

"Cover fire," Hux said firmly. "Your discretion."

He didn't waste more words, just flicked a status update in Phasma's general direction and opened fire on the wall. Like all the other Knights of Ren, this one had managed the deflection trick, though unlike the others, the wall simply sent all the bolts wide rather than trying to freeze or return them. It was more like a field effect than a specific effort at telekinesis, and Hux kept firing as he reached into the Force and twisted, trying to open a channel for his shots to fall through.

The Knight clicked something and  _ swatted  _ through the Force, Hux's distraction making him slow by a half-second, and he crashed into the wall hard enough to see stars, scrabbling out of the way of a follow-up swat that dented the durasteel. The blaster skittered out of reach when he hit, and Hux swore as he shook the disorientation off and went for his knife. He had a heavy combat knife, and rather than wait around for the big Knight to try to hit him, he ran  _ at  _ them.

Blaster bolts filled the air around him-- Mitaka had switched targets, pelting them with fire rapid enough that he must have picked up Hux's lost weapon. Red light filled the corridor, the shots going wide and tearing scores in the walls, but whatever the Knight was, the sheer dazzling effect of that many blaster bolts in their face seemed about the same as in a human. The Knight's reaction was slow, the pike coming up clumsily in a transverse slash just as Hux hit his knees and slid in. The blade whistled overhead, the blow strong enough that the vibroblade might have cut him in half, as Hux lashed out with the knife, stabbing in the general vicinity of the kidneys in a human. Flesh, not exoskeleton, tore, and he yanked the blade free and scrambled away before the Knight could reverse their grip and send the blunt end of the pike at his face.

Blood did not show on the black robes of the Knight, but they listed to the side. Good. 

Hux reached out with the Force, grabbed the pike, and  _ pulled. _

The pike tore free from the Knight's grip and then hovered, caught between their telekinetic pulls. Hux's charge had put the Knight between himself and the pitched lightsaber duel down the hall. The tiniest sliver of a plan bounced to Phasma, and he felt her harried acknowledgement.

Hux pulled harder, the pike shivering where it was caught in a tug of war, the blade slewing as Hux put the slightest spin on it. His timing was going to have to be  _ exact. _

The Knight yanked harder, and Hux almost lost his grip on the pike as the flustered creature kept tugging, redoubling their efforts. Hux let the Knight's frustration build, waiting for Phasma to toss him the signal that she was clear of her opponent. 

_ Now! _

The Knight pulled. Hux dropped his grip on the pike, grinning as it shot down the corridor like it had a rocket strapped to it. The walking wall sidestepped, reaching out to adjust the pike's course, but the corridor wasn't  _ that  _ damn long. A shriek and Phasma's triumphant cackle told Hux the pike had landed true. One down, or soon enough to be.

The Knight in front of him clicked something, swatting out in the Force at Mitaka. Cursing, Hux swarmed to his feet as the cover fire ceased, but the Knight of Ren whirled with shocking speed for its bulk and lashed out with talon-tipped claws. They snagged his arm and yanked him closer, digging straight down to bone.

A rapid series of clicks-- as if Hux could understand a damn word of it, followed. He slashed for the thing's throat with his free hand and was promptly stilled by the Force pressing in on him for the handful of breaths it took to tear through the field holding him still. Long enough for the Knight. Almost casually, they twisted Hux's captured arm with terrible strength, and his shoulder popped out of joint with sickening ease. 

Hux screamed, his knees almost giving out, and lashed out blindly for the fucking thing. It kept twisting, as if to slowly mangle all his joints, and Hux cast desperately about for something to  _ hit  _ the fucker with. 

_ Hux, hang on! _ Phasma sent, though he could still  _ hear  _ lightsabers crashing. Or was his blood just roaring in his ears?

Before he had any luck, the walking wall jerked suddenly and was still, the ozone scent of a blaster bolt at close range filling the air. 

Mitaka peeked over the new corpse's shoulder, face purpling but looking pleased with himself, and hopped down. Phasma dashed over, and something in the ceiling groaned before it seemed like the whole fucking thing came down on them. Blast doors. There were blast doors in the damn temple.

"Get it off," Hux breathed, his own free hand apparently not up to the task of prying the dead Knight's claws out of his forearm despite his scrabbling attempts.

"The other one's injured but alive. I swear these fuckers are half-cyborg," Phasma said as she helped pry the claws out. Hux pulled the cowl off, and Mitaka started pulling it apart into bandages. "Your shoulder--"

"Do it, I'll manage," Hux gritted out, sucking in a breath as Phasma nodded and laid hands on him. At least she did him the favor of not counting down or dragging it out as some medics did, giving him just enough time to catch his breath before she snapped the joint back into something like in place.

_ "Fuck," _ he said feelingly, flexing his fingers just to make sure there wasn't any obvious nerve damage. Kylo prodded him, and Hux swatted it aside-- they needed to  _ focus  _ on their respective tasks, dammit. It was short work to bind the gashes and improvise a sling.

"We have to take the long way," Kenobi said, teeth bared like he wanted to  _ bite  _ as he appeared to them. "This way."

Hux traded Mitaka the knife for the pistol once his arm was immobilized as best as they were able. "Good work there."

"That  _ was  _ a rather creative distraction, sir," Mitaka said, grinning.

"Be sure to never tell Mouse that," Hux said.

They ran as fast as they dared, kept to a moderate pace between Mitaka's Force-blindness and Hux's injury. Phasma ranged around them, triggering blast doors in their wake where there were functioning panels. The Knight might still be following them, or moving to join Celes in her duel with Kylo. 

The idiot was still alive, at least. Hux could sense that much.

Kenobi got them to a garage level, echoing and empty save for a few speeders-- the Emperor's personal motor pool, perhaps, since the sleek black-and-red vehicles were a little ostentatious otherwise. Mitaka pulled ahead, practically diving into the driver's seat of the most likely-looking one.

"Charged, just give me a minute!" Mitaka called, prying open a panel and doing something.

"You fly," Hux told Phasma, wavering a little on his feet as he kept watch on the doors. 

"Back seat," she said, tugging him when he refused to move for a moment. "I'll need Mitaka to cover me, and Kylo can cover you."

"I can still shoot," Hux protested, but let himself be bundled into the back as the speeder shivered to life. Mitaka scrambled into the front passenger seat as Phasma vaulted in.

"Let's try not to make any more enemies than we already have," Phasma said, grinning at Hux's sour look as they lifted off. 

_ Incoming! _ Phasma pinged across the open link, receiving a distracted acknowledgement from Kylo. Whatever he was doing up in the Archive had most of his attention.

_ I will let your medic know to expect wounded, _ Kenobi sent, the flicker of blue vanishing completely.

_ Snitch, _ Hux thought tiredly across the link, realizing too late that he was broadcasting.

Phasma didn't reply, too busy pushing the speeder into a screaming hurry. They twisted around the temple, running dark in the deepening twilight, and spotlights from the ground tried to catch them. She didn't hesitate when they reached the wall of cracked windows that marked their former location, just slapped a few of the stabilizer controls as Kylo smashed straight through the window and dropped like a stone.

He landed hard half-in the empty seat, and Hux lunged to snag Kylo's belt before he could overbalance and fall. The speeder didn't quite compensate in time, slewing to the side before it righted itself, and Phasma swore as she yanked the controls to keep them from crashing into the temple wall. 

Celes appeared like a ghost in the empty window, bathed in the red light of her 'saber. The searchlights that were trying to find the speeder converged on her, perhaps attracted by the light. Kylo was still awkwardly balanced, trying to stand, and raised his hands just as Celes made a slashing gesture with her free hand. Lightning sparked from her fingertips, arcing straight for Kylo, who  _ caught  _ it with a pained grunt, deflecting the current to some other ground before it could do more than make Hux's hair stand on end. 

Then they were out of range, skipping wildly into traffic.

Kylo dropped into his seat when Hux tugged on his belt. He was panting, smelled faintly of smoke, and zapped Hux when his arm brushed Hux's fingers. 

"What the  _ fuck  _ happened to you?" Hux said.

"Force lightning sucks," Kylo said, managing a wobbly smirk. "I could ask you the same thing."

"Seatbelts, everyone," Phasma said as the wail of sirens echoed through the night.

"Are you fucking  _ kidding  _ me?" Hux said, spotting the flash of lights on their tail-- not police speeders, but he recognized the model. First Order, equipped with flashers so that no-one scrambling to get out of the way would  _ care  _ about the difference.

"She brought fixers," Mitaka said, twisting to have his own look. "Just two. Perfect."

"I can lose them," Phasma said, ducking them down into a lower lane of traffic and narrowly avoiding a crash with a garbage scow.

The fixers-- if that was what they were, though given the black and grey tactical suits, it was most likely-- followed as if lines had been attached to them, leaving crashes of various seriousness in their wake. Mitaka shifted around restlessly, but Hux was too busy watching the other speeders, waiting for a clear line of fire or at least a decent obstacle to put in their path. 

"I've got it," Kylo murmured, and gestured sharply. A cargo hauler faltered, its burden coming unhitched and slewing into traffic just behind them. One of the speeders dodged, but the other hit with a  _ whump  _ and went tumbling into the underlevels with the cargo container.

The remaining speeder pilot apparently wasn't up for the idea of getting hit with anything else, and put on the speed to start drawing alongside them. Hux hissed a curse and scrabbled for his pistol, which he'd dropped in his eagerness to keep Kylo from falling right out of the speeder. 

"Got it," Mitaka said, abstracted, and Hux looked up just in time to see him eel out of the seat restraints and leap for the remaining fixer. 

"Mitaka!" Phasma called, but she couldn't change course anything like fast enough to catch up with the speeder as it peeled to the side and swirled out of sight. 

"Mitaka!" Hux roared, his voice torn away by the howl of the wind. Seeking through the Force, he tried to find the pattern that was the lieutenant amid the billions of little stars that were the people of Coruscant. 

The fixer's speeder bobbed back up into traffic, and Mitaka waved as the body of the speeder's owner finished its slide off the back, leaving a dark smear behind, and down into the embrace of gravity.

"You  _ ass!" _ Phasma yelled.

"Don't tell Mouse!" Mitaka yelled back, his words almost inaudible from wind and traffic. 

"Go ahead and don't tell her yourself!" Hux said, waving. Mitaka waggled the speeder and took off like a shot along a separate path. They could meet up at the spaceport. 

"Are all officers crazy, or was Sixth Fleet special?" Kylo said, grinning as Hux finally slouched in the seat, wincing as his shoulder jogged. 

"I am not dignifying that," Hux said, almost looking forward to getting abuse rained on him because it was going to lead to  _ painkiller. _

"Is that a yes? Because I hear a yes."


	21. Chapter 21

Hux let his head loll back, the sting of that last hypo fading rapidly. Of course Mouse would jab him in the  _ other  _ shoulder, his injured arm still very much under the effect of the local anesthetic she'd given him when she sewed up the gouges.

"All right. Antibiotic done. You get painkiller after you eat something. I don't like how much blood you managed to get everywhere," Mouse said, setting the hypo down so that she could strip off her gloves and switch for new ones. "Next."

"Phasma," Kylo said, muffled slightly by the fact that the first thing he did when they shuffled aboard was find a blanket and pull it over his head. Hux couldn't blame him, not when he could  _ feel  _ how light and sound just made the headache worse. At least it had stopped reverberating between them across the bond, located where it  _ belonged  _ except for the occasional jagged impression of pain that made Hux's head twinge in sympathy.

"I'm fine," Phasma said, holding her hands up when Mouse approached. 

"What's that?" Mouse said, prodding a charred line down Phasma's thigh. 

"Ow," she said, blinking as she looked down at the scorched flesh. "How did I get that?"

"Sit, sit," Mouse said, giving Phasma a light shove in the direction of the table. "We're going to need to find a source of bacta soon at this rate."

"I don't need any," Kylo said, waving vaguely. 

"Well fucking wonderful for you," Mouse said crisply. 

Hux chuckled lowly, flexing his numb fingers. There was a sling, a real sling, in Mouse's hodgepodge of medical supplies, and as soon as she was done hacking the arm of his shirt off, she'd strapped him into it. Getting it off later was going to be a bitch-- most of the clasps were at awkward angles for his good hand. 

"You're hovering," Hux said, turning to look at the ghost who had been doing just that since they limped on board.

"It remains a free galaxy," Kenobi said. He was leaning on the table, close enough to touch if he'd been substantial. Judging by the way Kenobi kept flexing his fingers, the ghost was tempted to try it anyway.

"We're all fine," Hux said, huffing faintly at the display. He hardly needed the concern. 

"You very nearly weren't," Kenobi said, looking away when Hux caught his stare.

"That happens," Hux said.

"It shouldn't have," Kenobi said after a few shuddering breaths. "I know what you'll say about fighting a war, but you shouldn't have been forced to do that, either. Sith hells, it was supposed to be  _ over  _ after Jakku." The ghost restlessly ran his fingers back through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "You deserved better than this."

"Kenobi--" Hux started, feeling his face pull into a scowl.

"No. You all deserved better than this. Not to be molded into  _ weapons  _ in the hands of a Sith Lord."

"Do not  _ patronize  _ me," Hux snarled, levering himself up despite the wave of dizziness that accompanied the quick movement. He was taller than the ghost. Good.

The room stilled, even Mouse's usual monologue falling quiet. 

"Hux," Kenobi said quietly, the first time he'd addressed any of them by name. He had the same look of not-pity that Anakin had, when Kylo screamed his defiance of the truth at his grandfather's ghost.

What did the old news holos say? That Anakin Skywalker was Obi-Wan Kenobi's apprentice? Maybe that was where he'd gotten it.

"I don't care  _ what  _ you keep telling yourself in order to swallow helping us, or if you do it just for your old padawan's sake," Hux said, nearly tripping on the still-alien title, "I don't care what that hologram did or did not say. I am not going to suddenly play happy families with you to appease your misguided form of survivor's guilt just because a madman happened to think you would be an excellent genetic donor."

"If you are that married to the idea of being an orphan--" Kenobi said, and the faint amusement in the sentence snapped something in him. 

_ "Fuck off, _ Kenobi," Hux hissed, feeling his temper bloom firey in his chest. He wanted to  _ hit  _ something, but the way his arm throbbed in pain-- of course the fucking  _ anesthetic  _ would wear off-- reminded him that for the time being, he was forced to sit still and heal.

Fuck that. He whirled, just catching himself when his legs went unsteady. The general adrenaline crash he could feel spreading through him and the general act of moving had hit the point where they  _ did not _ get along, but he managed a credible stalk into the cockpit. The door controls were easy to seal behind him, cutting off the beginnings of an argument in his wake, and he collapsed into the pilot's chair.

Mouse could scream at him all she liked later. 

Coruscant's sky was orange through the viewport, hazed near the horizon line with rainbow colors and still frantic with traffic in all defiance of the hour. It was oddly like the  _ Finalizer  _ during fighter deployment drills, shapes of the smaller ships it carried darting against the velvet black of space.

The  _ Finalizer. _ Farel had been bitter about its assignment to Sixth Fleet-- Sixth had the Starkiller weapon, what did it need with a Resurgent-class Star Destroyer as well? No doubt Farel had immediately transferred his senior staff to Hux's flagship. His own command staff would have  _ loved  _ that-- Farel had been cut from more traditional cloth, bent on  _ winning  _ as loudly and publicly as possible and damn the cost, promoted only because his generalized disregard for the lives of the lower ranks brought results. The grandstanding idiot would stomp all over the quiet competence of  _ Hux's  _ people...

Except most of them were dead, weren't they?

"Fuck," Hux whispered, feeling his eyes burn with everything he had so-carefully packed away when Phasma came to him still smeared with ash. 

How many of them? How many had found their  _ trust  _ rewarded with death? Liquidated-- it was the sort of term a coward might use to pretty up a slaughter, but it was  _ accurate  _ for all of that, wasn't it?

His breath hitched on a sob that became a hiss of pain through his teeth as the shoulder jostled. 

_ Stars, _ what was he doing?

Kill Snoke? It was  _ suicide  _ to pit himself against the entire First Order war machine. He hadn't ever been able to imagine getting old, but... There was the statistical likelihood of dying in war and then there was inviting death over for a cup of tea. The  _ intelligent  _ thing to do was run, run into the farthest edges of the galaxy and hope that misadventure found him before the front lines did.

He couldn't imagine doing the intelligent thing, either. Ramming the trash heap into the  _ Finalizer's  _ bridge concourse was more appealing. Spitting in Snoke's face even if it was his last act. If nothing he did mattered,  _ spite  _ was always there as a reason to go on.

_ I thought  _ I _ was the nihilist. _

The thought was wreathed in pain-- Kylo had sprained something in his head again. It was clear, close, and Hux palmed away the tracks of tears on his cheeks just before the door hissed open and Kylo stepped in, carrying two mugs of something that steamed. He still had the blanket wrapped around his head and shoulders against the glare of the lights, the bright yellow of the standard survival kit ridiculous on him.

"Get out of my head," Hux said, grimacing at the tight edge in his voice, the too-raw everything still close to the surface.

"I can't," Kylo said, setting both mugs down on the tray built into the console for such things. He dithered for a moment and flicked off the interior lights before dropping to the floor to sit cross-legged next to the chair. The neon riot outside painted them in stripes of light and darkness that shifted constantly, but averaged out to a more comfortable glow than anything the ship could produce, just enough to see by.

"Come to rub it in?" Hux tried to force his breathing more calm, even as his eyes pricked and burned with the thwarted grief that wanted  _ out. _

"You don't have to pretend you're all right."

"If Mouse coerced you into  _ checking  _ on me--"

"No. A little." Kylo huffed and tipped over, and Hux started when Kylo settled leaning against his hip, a warm weight pressed into his side. "We're bonded."

"Yes, I remember you saying something to the effect."

Kylo sighed, an aggravated sound, and tugged on Hux's good hand. It was curled in a fist in his lap, short nails biting crescents in his palm without the gloves as a buffer. Kylo pried his fingers open, rubbing the red marks with the pad of his thumb, soothing little circles as he tried to coax Hux's hand open. 

"I couldn't  _ not  _ check on you," Kylo said after almost a minute ticked by.

"I am not a damsel in distress." 

"Didn't say you were." The blaster calluses on his palm were apparently a source of fascination. It was an odd thing to fix on, but Kylo was hardly normal. 

"What do you want?" Hux said, wincing at the waver in his voice. 

"We're bonded."

"If you're going to start sounding like a broken recording--"

"Will you stop trying to get the last word for five fucking minutes?" Kylo's gaze was fixed on their hands, but Hux could see the curl of a halfhearted sneer. It wasn't a wonder at all why he wore a helmet for so long-- everything seemed to cross his face eventually, his heart on display for all to see, bond or no bond. Hux swallowed and waited for Kylo to continue speaking, but he lapsed into quiet instead, fingertips ticklish against Hux's palm as he traced up and down the faint line that curved down around the swell of muscle in his thumb, past the remnant bruise from the now-useless medical sensor.

"I was supposed to die five months ago."

It was matter-of-fact, as if Kylo was discussing the weather or which stormtrooper squadrons he wanted for a mission, as if it were a simple fact and the universe was going to have to rearrange itself to suit. Hux stared at him.

"I knew pretty much since I was capable of knowing anything I wasn't going to reach my thirtieth birthday," Kylo said, smiling with an actual edge of humor. "Though I guess I still might not. It's a few months away."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hux said softly.

"So you  _ understand. _ I knew that I was going to die, consumed by the Dark, alone. Every choice in my life brought me closer to that moment, whether I was running  _ away  _ from it or running  _ for  _ it.  _ Now... _ I don't know. Thirty still seems iffy. Forty feels like something that happens to other people. But I'm not alone," Kylo said, chewing his lower lip contemplatively. "I think for that...  _ Fuck. _ I don't know.  _ I'll catch you. _ But stop trying to hide how you feel. You can't from  _ me  _ anyway."

"You are such a godsbedamned idiot," Hux said, and it came out somewhat watery, less from the words-- eloquent Kylo was  _ never-- _ and more from the feeling filtering into his head. To fall and fall and then be caught. It was a feeling that could get addictive, this open sense of  _ never-alone. _

_ "You _ linked to  _ me, _ so who's the idiot now?" Kylo said, smiling. It was an unfair smile, wholehearted. It eased the icy hollowness in Hux's chest, and he found he could breathe without it hurting after all.

Kylo let him go, rummaging around on the tray to steal one of the mugs, though he didn't move otherwise, head and shoulder still leaning against Hux's hip. At length, after another discreet swipe at the moisture in his eyes, Hux followed suit, wrinkling his nose at the distinctive smell of killi soup. It was lukewarm and too salty, but hunger kicked in on his first experimental sip.

"Do I want to know where this came from?" he said, when he could trust his voice. 

"Someone invented a way to freeze-dry killi soup into powder," Kylo said. "There is a very large jar of it in the galley."

"Ah. We're doomed." 

The door chirped and swished open in rapid succession, Phasma sidling in with her own burden of mug. She flicked the door seal and actually punched in a lock code before turning to take in the tableau.

"You forgot something," she said to Kylo, pulling a small bottle out of her pocket and shaking it significantly. 

"She wasn't going to trust me with it anyway," Kylo said with a roll of his eyes as Phasma came up, skipping the copilot's chair and taking the last sliver of floor near the pilot's station instead. She leaned back against the console's support pillar, raising her mug in a parody of a toast.

"There is a very interesting slapfight going on about parenting styles out there. I thought walking in on the murder scene was safer," she said by way of explanation. "Also, I brought pain meds."

"Maybe when I'm ready to pass out," Hux said, finishing the last of the soup. 

"Did Grandfather show up with anything important to say, or was he just there to needle Obi-Wan?" Kylo said.

"Yes? He kept Kenobi from walking through the door, anyway," Phasma said.

"Ugh. I'm staying here. Never mind," Kylo said. Phasma laughed at whatever face he was making at her. They lapsed into quiet, watching the colors play along the bulkheads from the ridiculousness that was Coruscant at night.

"I had an idea," Phasma said after a while, when the empty mugs were clustered together on the tray. "A very lovely idea, I think, but I thought that despite how emotionally compromised you two are, I'd let you know what it is before I tell Mitaka to pull the trigger."

"I am very open to suggestions," Hux said, the faint drowsiness of the moment fleeing at the renewed question of  _ what now. _

"Let's assassinate Snoke. And let's get  _ paid  _ for it," Phasma said, folding her hands over her stomach as she crossed her ankles. "Someone's bound to put a bounty on his head sooner or later."

"Bounty hunting? Really?" Kylo said, snorting as he stretched from his curl against Hux's side.

"Why not? What  _ else  _ does a bunch of highly skilled murderers do for a living? We bide our time, amass people and materiel, let the First Order think we dropped revenge and get complacent. Unless you really  _ want  _ to crawl to the Resistance and hope we don't get shot first," Phasma said.

"Unless the Order starts  _ visibly  _ winning," Hux said, remembering the datachip he had in his kit. "Or someone tries to pick  _ us  _ up for war crimes. We have to be contactable to do the job."

"So we get the hell out of here and never go past the Mid Rim again," Phasma said, holding one finger up. "I can definitely say I've had my fill if the rest of the Core is like this. We make a name as mercenaries, get enough systems in our pocket, nobody's taking anybody in over what we did in the Order." She held a second finger up. "And we're going to need credits soon anyway--  _ you'd  _ know better than me how much work went on to make sure we were supplied and funded, and logistics are going to be a problem even if we  _ did  _ think making a suicide run was the answer. And--" She wagged three fingers in Kylo's face. "The  _ paperwork  _ is already done."

"Snoop," Hux said.

"Damn straight," Phasma said, smirking.

"When did you get bounty hunting paperwork?" Kylo said, looking up at him. 

"The busybody sheriff on Tatooine," Hux said, "Apparently we reminded him of the Clone Wars."

Kylo snickered at that. It was, in retrospect, a  _ little  _ funny. 

"So. Not that you get a vote because you're officially on medical leave until Mouse is done screaming at you, what do you think?" Phasma said.

"I think I might sleep here tonight," Hux said, huffing faintly.

"I think you're dangerous when you get command," Kylo said.

"Those aren't no."

"I don't have a better idea, Captain," Hux said, "So it's as good as anything. Have you briefed the others?"

"With all the  _ comments  _ Mouse makes?" Phasma said with a shake of her head. "Do I need to?"

"Still... this won't be an ordinary campaign. We aren't fighting for peace or freedom or any high ideals. Just ourselves," Hux said, looking down. "I would prefer if everyone walks into it knowing that, and makes a decision they think they can live with. We aren't-- We aren't the First Order. Not anymore."

They looked at each other in the shifting light. 

"I'm still not going out there," Kylo said, eyeing the locked door.

"Don't be a child," Hux said, nudging him so that there might be room to stand forthcoming. Phasma hopped to her feet, offering him a hand up that he was grateful to take. Moving was  _ not  _ a friendly proposition, the shoulder complaining the second he shifted, and he needed to actually  _ take  _ the painkillers sooner rather than later. Grumbling, Kylo followed them, though  _ naturally  _ he left the dirty dishes at the console.

It could probably wait until morning. There were more important things to speak of.


	22. Chapter 22

Hux felt the ghost arrive, the subtle configurations of the Force shifting with the new addition, but didn't budge from his meditation. He was immersed in the current of it, like a great river of stars that  _ must  _ loop on itself somewhere, but he couldn't tell. It was without origin or destination-- the journey itself the only part that mattered. Or perhaps it was a song, every particle both player and instrument, composer and composition, somehow always stepping back to melody from the potential cacophony. The music of the spheres, taken literally. There again, some theories about the nature of the universe in general were similar, so perhaps it wasn't so strange.

Sometimes he wondered what he would feel if he hadn't come to it so  _ late, _ if he had the near-instinctual flow Phasma and Kylo had with it. He tried not to linger on the what-if. The past was gone.

Perhaps the ghost appeared because Hux was momentarily alone. The others had gone on various errands-- to put into motion Phasma's plan, to send out the call to all their wayward crew. Of all of them, he was the worst injured, and he appreciated the tactical sense of leaving him as rear-guard even if he chafed under the enforced idleness.  _ Someone  _ had to make sure their avenues of escape were clear, and Kylo was dead asleep, not even rousing after Millicent spent an entertaining twenty minutes pawing his face. He couldn't really blame the former Knight of Ren for it. It hadn't taken Force sensitivity to notice the way the man minimized his sleep as much as possible, and that had been  _ before  _ Snoke took to regularly laying hooks and snares.

Millie was in something of a mood about it, though. He felt her predatory intent loud and clear, and he opened his eyes in time to watch her pounce for the fluttering edge of a Jedi robe, overbalance because the ghost was not substantial, and tumble gracelessly across the decking before zooming behind the cover of the table.

There was a petulant  _ mweh  _ from the table.

Obi-Wan Kenobi shook his head at the skatta's display. "I didn't think they could see ghosts."

"I didn't think you were a glutton for punishment," Hux said, carefully unfolding himself from where he knelt on the floor. If he was going to be subject to stubborn haunting, he was going to have tea for it, even if the entire operation was somewhat overcomplicated by the fact he was temporarily down an arm. 

"No, sorry, quite the opposite," Kenobi said. Hux grunted acknowledgement, rifling through the galley cabinets for tea leaves. Someone-- almost certainly Mouse-- left a packet almost overflowing with tiny yellow puffs front and center, their soft honey-scent curling up as he carefully set it aside. The remains of the Tatooine black weren't the most appetizing, but their brew kicked well enough and he was getting accustomed to the way it bit back even with sweetener. There was also a dead insect of some kind stashed in front of the sweetener, with all but two of its legs bitten off. It was as big as Hux's hand, so he didn't waste too much time inspecting it before he tossed it.

"You drink adris straight?" Kenobi said, eyeing the packet of tea with something that actually resembled  _ longing. _ "Most of the time I see it blended heavily with a red."

"They do it that way on Tatooine," Hux said noncommittally, carefully measuring out enough for a cup.

"I know," Kenobi said, half-smiling. "With enough sweetener to make the spoon stand up."

"When were you on-- wait," Hux said, very carefully setting his steeping tea down before he could scald himself. "It was  _ you. _ On the edge of the Wastes."

"Yes," Kenobi said, "It was my home for eighteen years. I think it took nearly that long to develop a taste for adris tea."

Hux kept his gaze on the chronometer set in the wall as it ticked off the time, not entirely sure what to do with the information. "What changed your mind?"

"Necessity, mostly. I used to be something of a tea snob," Kenobi said with a faint chuckle.

"Are you sure it's used to be?" Hux said, extracting the strainer full of leaves from his cup and dumping it in the sink before he could scorch his fingertips. He didn't add enough sweetener to make the spoon stand up, but it was a nontrivial amount. The bond got an experimental nudge as he took his breakfast to the table-- Kylo was still asleep, the deep dreamless sleep of the completely wrung out. Hux supposed he could let Kylo sleep in a little longer, even if that meant one avenue of escape was down. It beat having to put up with bitching from the living  _ as well as _ the awkwardness of the dead.

Millie was in his lap the second he sat, purring and complaining simultaneously as she gave the ghost a narrow-eyed look and swished her tail. He had to put the tea down in a hurry when she decided glaring was insufficient and started  _ pointedly  _ rubbing her head and side on him.

"She seems to have taken to you," Kenobi said, picking an unoccupied chair, even if his attempt at sitting ended up more like hovering. "I think she may have a grudge from the other day."

Hux snorted softly. He wasn't fond of negotiation, but he could recognize a basic gambit when he saw it. "If you're here to apologize, you should just get it over with."

"I'm sorry," Kenobi said, visibly dropping the courtier's manners as well as his gaze. "I was being pretty presumptuous for less than a day's acquaintance, and I wasn't  _ thinking  _ about how what I was saying must have sounded."

Hux shoved Millie until she was back in his lap instead of trying to crawl into his shirt and sipped his tea, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was something of a surprise when it didn't. That got Kenobi a second look, anyway.  _ Genuine  _ apologies were rare in the universe.

The ghost was careworn, as if eighteen years of the sadness that seeped into the walls on Tatooine had eroded something in him, leaving a sterner core that had been carved into deceptively gentle shape. He glowed brighter than Anakin, a light shaded with only a faint taste of dark compared to the swirling shadows that sometimes cloaked the more familiar ghost. Unlike Jinn, his presence was stable, settled maybe a couple decades older than Hux himself, though lines of stress made him look older at first glance.

It seemed the ghost was equally curious, his gaze frank but the feeling behind it somewhat inscrutable, and Hux blinked when he made eye contact. Kenobi's eyes were  _ exactly  _ like his, bluer than anything else for the moment, but with the faint mercurial promise of change should the situation alter itself. Hux sucked in a breath and covered it with a sip of just-too-hot tea, the brief pain enough to interrupt the creeping sense of unreality.

He never signed up to be cast adrift in the middle of a  _ tale, _ dammit.

"Unless my math is terrible," he ventured, when the ghost didn't speak, "You weren't aware of what Sidious was planning."

"No," Kenobi said, wry. "It would have been after the Death Star. I was a little dead."

"Only a little?"

Kenobi shrugged, spreading his hands. "I seem to be somewhat attached to this world."

That statement could lead in a hundred directions, most of them maudlin. Hux could guess enough from all his illicit glimpses of the past. 

"I know this was not a choice either of us made," Kenobi said when the silence stretched thin again.

"I'm not  _ asking  _ you to hang around and make over-emotional pronouncements," Hux said pointedly. "In case you were feeling obligated."

"True," Kenobi said, smiling. "Then I suppose I'll just keep it at I'm willing to try if you are."

Hux favored the ghost with a flat stare. The smile widened.

"Just think about it," Kenobi said, and vanished. Behind the cover of a chair, Millie meowed peevishly. She stepped forward and sniffed where the ghost had been, swishing her tail in clear annoyance.

"You and me both," Hux told to the skatta.

She wandered off to make another patrol of the ship, or possibly to move some dead critter in her backlog into the galley. It was hard to tell with her, considering he'd never had to deal with animals on a long-term basis before. 

That was going to probably change in a hurry. Hux sipped his tea, grimacing at the thought. A lot of things would be changing in a hurry-- it was one thing to run from one crisis to the next, to ignore the blatant fact that the carefully-ordered future was a smoking ruin in his wake. Quite another to turn and blaze a fresh trail forward. He might be  _ too  _ married to the idea of being five steps ahead, he could grant that, but  _ someone  _ on this garbage scow needed to be. The list of beings who wanted them dead was far too long for it to be otherwise, even if most of their names happened to end in  _ Ren. _

The comm chirped. Hux tapped it-- before Mitaka left, he sent the recall-regroup code out to those who had been with him. They didn't have a destination yet, the Core Worlds by consensus far too hot for a rendezvous, but that didn't preclude meeting the others where  _ they  _ were. It was early yet for a full headcount, and Hux sighed when he took in the message. 

_ We are all sons of bitches, _ it began, and the rest of Major Kodi's refusal was no less colorful. No more systems would die, not with one of Starkiller's very engineers among the Resistance. Likely whatever analyst had been assigned to the major's debriefing ended up in a corner hyperventilating, depending on how much Kodi had been willing to give over. The Starkiller itself might have been enough, but Hux couldn't imagine Kodi ending a message like this with  _ godspeed  _ unless there were things that overmatched even  _ Hux's  _ awareness of what R&D was up to.

He belonged out  _ there  _ doing something useful instead of holding down a chair.

"You are exhausting." 

Hux looked up from his stare into the middle distance to see Kylo, still sleep-tousled, stretch and make his way to the galley. 

"You slept half of the morning away," Hux said coolly as Kylo fixed his own tea. He avoided the puffball flowers too.

"Mmm." What looked like half the sweetener went into Kylo's mug. "You've been beaming restless into my head all morning."

"Serves you for snooping," Hux said with a faint snort, finishing his tea. 

"We should work on shielding the bond," Kylo said as he flopped into one of the chairs, "Then you can be less pissy about it."

"I am not being pissy. I would think  _ you'd _ be more upset considering we were trying to  _ break  _ a bond."

"You're... tolerable," Kylo said, swirling his mug. He hadn't bothered with a strainer, never did, just let the leaves soak even if the results were practically undrinkable. A shy sense of  _ not-alone _ filtered through, and Hux sighed at it. There  _ was  _ that.

"The others should be getting back soon," he said after a glance at the chrono, letting the subject drop however gracelessly. Speaking of, the console chirped both another message and the confirmation that, indeed, the others were back and opening the hatch by remote command.

Commotion swept in, Phasma looking pleased with herself and Mitaka looking faintly perplexed. Mouse wasn't with them, but Millie went bounding off in the direction of the hatch at the characteristic door-chirp, so it wasn't mysterious  _ why. _

"We are officially freelance," Phasma said, setting a datachip before Hux with a mocking bow. "Bounty hunting company 77896-- I'm sure we'll think of something to call ourselves later."

"Did you have any trouble?" Hux said.

"Nah. Just waiting in line. I thought  _ our  _ civil service was terrible. And they'll give a license to  _ anyone  _ these days," Phasma said, waving off his concern. 

"They don't even make you take a marksman qualifier," Mitaka said, sitting down to fiddle with the table's console. He made a face at it-- must have found Kodi's message.

"I wouldn't want to do a rifle qualification one-handed anyway," Hux said. Kylo was uncharacteristically quiet, looking far away as he drank his tea. The bond fluxed oddly too, a hint of  _ otherworldly  _ in it that was distinct from Snoke's meddling hooks.

"We should go," Kylo said, then blinked and shook himself. 

"Go where?" Phasma said, turning a sharp look on him. 

"We have a message from KD-3168. It's got the safe haven verbal code in it," Mitaka said, looking at Kylo oddly. "She's in the Huju system. The twins went looking for their family-- there was a match for their DNA in a missing persons database. They were arguing about going when we got dropped at Naboo. I guess they went in for it."

"Problems?" Hux said, ignoring the spike of secondhand nervousness. What the fuck was Kylo agitated about?

"Shouldn't be?" Mitaka said, "We had to search it up by star catalog number. Eastern arm, closest actual galactic port of call is  _ Dathomir. _ The crazy backwater of the galaxy, but still the backwater."

"Better than here," Mouse said, walking in with Millie in her arms. "Where are we going?"

"Huju, Mouse," Mitaka said, snorting as Mouse put the skatta down. 

"Yup. Better than here," she said.

"So what's at Huju?" Phasma said, fixing Kylo with a look. 

"Your stormtroopers aren't enough?" he said, avoiding her gaze.

_ "Kylo." _

"I don't know. What we're looking for," he said, swirling the dregs of tea in his mug and making a face at their configuration.

"When you get  _ vague  _ things get explodey," Phasma said.

"Unless anyone has any better ideas, we may as well go," Hux said before the pair of them could get into it. 

"No," Phasma said, sighing. "But we should probably be prepared for a running fight."

"Are you still cranky about that? The  _ ambush  _ would have been worse," Kylo said.

"Five miles in  _ swamp, _ Kylo," Phasma said.

"Walkers with  _ railguns," _ Kylo said, brightening up at Phasma's sour look. Oh yes. Rataxis Prime. All of that fuss for a few scientists and a Force-sensitive twelve-year-old who  _ bit. _ Hux remembered. The scientists, at least, had been useful, odd weapons ideas and all.

"Shall I send the confirmation?" Mitaka said, fingers hovering over the keypad as he looked at them all. 

"Do it," Phasma said. "One place is as good as any."


	23. Chapter 23

Huju was five days in hyperspace from Coruscant, a fast slide along the Hylian Way and then a more torturous route once they left behind the hyperlanes. One of the few advantages to the place was that it wasn't a system automatically navigable by computer-- Kylo had to input the star catalog number by hand before the navicomp was willing to attempt a course calculation, and anyone following would have to make do with raw headings. Assuming anyone was following, but given the lack of decapitated body, it was a good bet Celes Ren was still on their backtrail along with her friend. 

It left Hux at odd ends. 

The dislocated shoulder was healing, particularly with judicious use of the Force to nudge it along, but Mouse needed time to assimilate the manuals on Force healing before she'd authorize anyone to try anything other than boosting the natural healing process. The stitches in his arm would likely come out sooner, the bacta doing its work nicely, and there was already the telltale ridging of new scar tissue that he could feel under the bandages. Both conditions left him unfortunately unable to continue with any physical training, and of course his luck would have it that among the recovered information was instruction in all  _ seven  _ lightsaber forms and the major variants thereof.

Fencing manuals were not that fun to watch if one couldn't try the moves.

Since Mitaka was the original locus-point for the web of survivors from the  _ Finalizer, _ it only made sense for him to continue in that role, bouncing messages through byzantine networks of proxies as the details sorted themselves out. Snoke's purge of the crew had not been discriminatory in the least, and while the list of survivors who made contact was primarily composed of stormtroopers, there was a decent spread of other specialties, and a few other experienced officers to offset the number of troopers who had been  _ so close _ to the end of their Academy tour. Something to work with.

What to work  _ toward... _ it was all well and good to set  _ get paid _ as a short-term goal. They needed credits and equipment, since the repeat engagements with the Knights of Ren were hell on personal gear if nothing else. It was the rest of it that bothered him, worrying at the edges of the rest he tried to find and thoroughly ruining any enjoyment he might have gotten out of the scant handful of scientific papers he found amid the Archive's detritus about ancient Force-users' role in the mapping of the great hyperlanes and what it implied about the nature of space-time.

It probably had everything to do with why Hux was standing in the closet-sized refresher staring at his reflection instead of anything productive, halfheartedly fishing through his kit for trimmers. The sonics hummed their high-pitched counterpoint to the thrum of the hyperdrive-- there was laundry going, though he wasn't sure whose. Probably he ought to take advantage of the fact that someone took the time to string up laundry lines and do his own washing, not that he had much left in the way of presentable clothing after Mouse tore up his still-very-bloodstained shirt.

He was woolgathering. With a faint sneer at his reflection, Hux finally located the trimmers and thumbed the correct settings to neaten up his beard, which had been neglected in favor of more pressing matters the last few days.

_ There  _ was a thought. His reflection was more familiar  _ now  _ than it had been during his years posted to Starkiller Base-- facial hair was easier to keep neat than to banish completely when he couldn't be assured of a shave with an actual razor every day, trimmers simply unable to keep him from scruffing right up again by evening. It probably said something about the mind-numbing nature of the Starkiller project that he'd taken to the small procrastination of a long shave every morning just to avoid  _ yet another _ logistics and planning meeting. Perhaps Phasma was right. Maybe the Starkiller project  _ had  _ leeched something out of him if he was getting  _ nervy  _ over the prospect of not having someone else's timetable breathing down his neck. He was perfectly fine functioning without waiting for orders. It was what put him on the command track in the first place. Why should setting his  _ own  _ goals be so fucking different?

_ Mmm? _ Kylo's sending was more feeling than thought, a gentle noise of inquiry that made Hux's eye twitch with its faint overlay of concern. 

_ Shoo, _ he sent sternly, before the nuisance could push. 

The bond was the bond. Thoughts and sensations were finally firmly where they  _ belonged  _ at any given moment, after a day spent poking each other's renovated shields, but the empathic link refused to fade out completely, leaving each with a constant background radiation of the other's feelings. Kylo was all predatory interest for the moment, but that was understandable considering the pile of chips he and Phasma absconded to the cargo hold with. Mouse would probably have to drag them out to eat, not that reconstituted killi soup was something to look  _ forward  _ to.

As Hux put back the trimmers, squinting at the faded ring of bruises around his neck to check their progress, the shower thunked and cut out, the lights flickering just after. Electrical glitch, probably a short somewhere. Fucking shit wiring.

Wonder about what to do, and things  _ happened. _ He ought to know better by now.

He flicked the shower off in case the power should short back to life and headed out to take a diagnostic. At least the central computer was well-designed despite the ship's over-reliance on touchscreens instead of interactive holoscreens. He could simply cross into the lounge to bring up the electrical systems and flip off the circuits involved rather than running halfway across the trash heap. The fault looked to be in the shower itself, the surge from the short flicking the lights around until the power re-balanced. Worst case, they would all smell interesting when they landed. Good.

"Sir?" Mitaka, who was busy at the larger console set in the table, blinked owlishly at Hux as he dragged out his toolkit. 

"As you were," he said distractedly, double-checking that no-one made off with anything.

"I wasn't really doing much," Mitaka said, "Can I help?"

"You have systems maintenance in your bottomless skill set?"

"No, but I can learn," Mitaka said stoutly. Hux considered the toolkit and the former officer-- he  _ had  _ to stop thinking about all of them in terms of their old ranks, break the old patterns of behavior before predictability got them  _ killed-- _ who was also making eye contact without flinching. With a nod, he handed over the kit.

"Come on," Hux said. 

The hanging clothes and their freight of dust were cleared away with haste, and it was probably a good thing Mitaka volunteered considering that ripping off the paneling on the inside of the stall took two hands. 

"Hold this," Hux said, handing Mitaka a penlight.

"You don't think Millie missed something, do you?" Mitaka asked, playing the light over the exposed depths of the shower's sonic generator without needing to be asked. 

"Probably not," Hux said, shifting around bundles of wires to see if he could locate the issue visually. "Furballs go for the bigger lines first. They're always on."

Mitaka hummed, and Hux poked around for a few quiet moments. There was a smear of ash on a casing, and he snaked in his good arm to start taking it apart, cupping the Force around the lot to make sure none of the tiny screws fell into the mechanism.

"So... how did you learn how to fix spaceships? I thought you would have been command track from the beginning," Mitaka said after a while, once the problem bit-- power adapter, probably mismatched to the ship's current in the first place-- was out and carefully laid out on the refresher floor.

"I was," Hux said, huffing softly when he found the melted plastic of the busted wire. The whole bundle was melted together, but he was relatively sure he had cable to rig a replacement. He sat back on his heels. "Don't you have  _ hobbies, _ Mitaka?"

The younger man practically jumped at the question, flushing and frantically looking around the tiny room. "Well, sir, I mean--"

"Hux," he said. "My name is Hux. I think given that we are fugitives on the run together, attempting to repair a sonic shower that is likely older than our entire culture, and you saved my life not long ago, you earned the right to use my name."

Mitaka lit with a brilliant smile. "Hux... from  your service number, right?"

"Yes," he said.

"I, uh, do names," Mitaka said, laughing a little. "I guess it's what caught General Zash's attention, me circumventing creche filters all the time to look at name meanings for people getting ready to go to Academy tour."

Hux nodded-- it confirmed a pet theory as to why  _ Mitaka  _ kept being elected bearer of bad news. Ops could be an insular lot at times. "You were intelligence. A good bit more than an analyst considering most of them don't truck with hijacking speeders  _ during  _ a high-speed chase."

_ "Almost," _ Mitaka said, shaking his head with a smile for the floor. "I'm sure it was a great professional disappointment to my trainers. Our graduation assessment was meant for a whole squad, and we were three to begin with before the clusterfuck even  _ started... _ but I imagine the last straw was the name I took after. Busted me down to the lowliest analyst slot in Sixth instead of all the solo field placements everyone talked about, but I didn't really care.  _ Still  _ don't, to be honest."

"What could possibly be controversial about a name?" Hux said, raising an eyebrow as he looked over at Mitaka.

_ "Three falcons,"  _ Mitaka said, meeting his gaze with the same lopsided smile. "Maudlin sentiment has no place in the fixer corps. Not when you're very  _ personally  _ remembering how you got screwed over."

"Their loss," Hux said. 

They lapsed into quiet again, as Hux double-checked all the components they pulled from the shower. Oddly, everything was to spec, even the power adapter which was actually somewhat overbuilt for the type of current in the ship. They replaced the melted wire, Mitaka doing most of the actual work at Hux's direction while he cast around to figure out what caused the problem.  _ Something  _ fed back to cause the short, some power source they weren't detecting. 

Mitaka's jacket was in the pile of things pushed aside in the corner. "What's in the pockets?" Hux asked, nodding over to it as he started slotting things back in place in the wall. 

"In the-- oh!" Mitaka said, snatching the jacket up. "Nothing that should be reactive to  _ sonics  _ unless... uh."

Hux turned away from the gutted shower to see Mitaka sheepishly pull something that gleamed faintly from the inner pocket of the jacket. It was much dimmer than he remembered, clear like glass instead of radiant with its own glow, but it was unmistakable even before Mitaka held it out for inspection.

"You grabbed it," Hux said, as the healing crystal caught the refresher's lights and painted the walls with shattered rainbows.

"Sorry," Mitaka said, wincing a little. "It's so light; I forgot it was there. I wasn't even sure it still  _ worked  _ or anything, but I didn't want Bitch Ren there to get her hands on it. I should have said something."

"Well, I suppose if it objected to the sonics..." Hux said as Mitaka set the crystal very carefully aside. "I can forgive you the lapse if we get it working. Besides, you still have a repair job to finish."

It took only a few moments for the panels to need replaced, an affair that took a great deal of shoving and snarling before the plastics clicked back where they belonged. After that, it was a simple matter of flipping a few switches before the sonics were humming away as if nothing happened.

Perhaps not everything could be fixed so easily, but Hux found he could breathe a little easier as they wandered back to the lounge, Mitaka still in custody of the crystal. Mouse was at the table, brushing Millie, and smiled when they approached.

"I was wondering where you two got off to! You should see the  _ show  _ in the cargo-- wait. Is that?" she said, unceremoniously shoving Millie off her lap when she got a good look at them.

"The healing crystal? Yeah?" Mitaka said, carefully tipping it into Mouse's waiting hands. "We think it might need to charge or something."

"We?" Mouse said, giving Hux a sideways look.

"Our fixer is being humble again," he said, smiling serenely when Mitaka flushed red.

"About  _ time  _ you came clean," Mouse said, only half-scolding as she held the crystal up to the light. "I think you're right, though. With as exhausted as Kylo was the last few days, kicking Snoke out could easily have drained the power cell here, too. I'll see if I can find a reference... but don't think that I'm letting you out of that sling a  _ second  _ before you're ready, Hux."

"I gave up on bribing you with shiny things years ago," Hux said.

"This is why we like you," Mouse informed him gravely. "Now go flirt with your triumvirs or something. You've had enough time to brood."

"I have  _ not  _ been--"

"You kind of have," Mitaka said, scratching the back of his head. 

"Besides, it really is a show down there. You should take the first aid kit," Mouse said firmly, getting up to shove said first aid kit in Hux's arms before he could quite think of something to say to that. He hadn't been  _ brooding, _ dammit.

"Is something going on that you aren't telling me?" Hux finally said, conceding the point. Better to choose his battles with Mouse.

"Go see for yourself. I wouldn't dare ruin the surprise!"


	24. Chapter 24

Hux stared out at the whorls of hyperspace, ignoring the pain in his shoulder that throbbed in time with his heartbeat. Behind him, he heard the patter of paws as Millie patrolled the cockpit, suspicious of every ventilation duct. He didn't acknowledge her just yet, since attention tended to lead to demands for affection. 

What a difference a month could make. 

Time was a relative thing in space. Even leaving aside the headache caused by the fact that no two worlds had the same year and rotation period, faster-than-light travel  _ did things _ to the passage of time. It used to drive him insane, no two clocks ever quite in sync no matter what lengths one went to in order to coordinate times between ship and ship, ship and world. It took careful calculation to catch dropped minutes in fleet command and compensate for them. When he was younger and had fewer demands on him that had nothing to do with anything, he used to do the calculation himself. 

It felt like those moments, when half his attack group was ten minutes ahead despite arriving at the exact same instant, when he finally looked at the date. Not quite six weeks since he met his first ghost. It felt like years. 

Hux sighed softly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let his eyes slide shut. They would be at Huju soon, there to find the young troopers who were the only ones brave or stupid enough to join in on their mad not-even-a-plan. The others sent their regrets, of course, out of the few who responded in the first place. Some had been like Kodi, taking up the Resistance's open offer of asylum in exchange for actionable intelligence. A majority simply fled to the farthest corner of the galaxy to hide and wait. Likely the rest were dead-- the First Order's reach in the Rim was long, and the penalty for turning traitor didn't change no matter  _ why  _ you had the label. If not... It was hard to judge when he was indirectly responsible for their situation in the first place, though  _ resentment  _ didn't ever need to worry about small things like  _ logic. _

_ Fuck, _ he needed to sleep. It was long past the point that caffeine helped, and the mild euphoria stage was a few hours ago. They were all on odd hours, adrift without clear mission parameters to prepare for. Well, except Kylo, who generally did what he wanted, when he wanted, whenever he wasn't specifically doing Snoke's bidding.

Hux was  _ supposed  _ to be better than this. Instead, he'd thrown the sling across the lounge and gone to hide in the cockpit again, every beat of pain in his shoulder like a reminder. He really,  _ really  _ wasn't. 

_ Hux? _ The foreign thought was an itch in the back of his head, Phasma's sleepy confusion a faint fog that drifted through the connection. 

_ Go back to sleep.  _

_ Come to bed, _ she sent, pinning on a wordless offer to make sure he was too exhausted to do anything but sleep-- or to keep him warm, she wasn't picky. 

_ I'd just keep you up, _ he sent back, threading the thought with his appreciation of her regardless.  _ It's not the kind of thing that will go away if I put it off. _

Maybe that was progress, being able to let the crash finally happen. Or maybe it was simply giving in to defeat. It was hard to tell, anymore.

_ You know if you keep brooding, you'll just get the human disaster in your face. I am not getting out of my very nice bunk to referee for you two at ass o'clock. _

_ Then don't. I am relatively certain the bond will keep us from killing each other. _

_ If you're wrong, try not to crash us, _ Phasma sent, and broke off the connection with a hint of exasperation, colored with concern. He'd earned a lot of that lately, looks he caught when his target didn't think he was watching, above and beyond Mouse's usual aggressiveness. 

_ He  _ wasn't enjoying going out of his fucking mind any more than  _ they  _ were.

Squabbling down the access corridor proved that Phasma's warning was accurate, Kylo and Anakin overlapping into unintelligible irritation until they were almost on top of him.  _ Huh. _ When they were  _ both  _ being pissy, they sounded almost alike.

"All I'm saying is that when  _ Obi-Wan _ was in that kind of mood--"

"Just  _ bug off _ for a while," Kylo hissed, "Go stalk somebody else for a change."

"I'm not half-bad at making prosthetic limbs if you--" Anakin said, cut off by a snarl from Kylo. The ghost had the temerity to laugh before he disappeared, his passage a discernable  _ twang  _ in the Force.

"I hope you weren't trying to be sneaky," Hux called, half-turning the chair so he could watch Kylo almost clock himself on the top of the open door's frame. Given the realities of spaceship manufacture, one would think he'd learn to  _ duck. _

"No," Kylo said shortly, depositing what smelled like a mug of tea on the console tray before he deposited  _ himself  _ at Hux's feet. "You're giving me a headache."

"So go meditate in the airlock or whatever you do," Hux said. 

"No. You owe me. It's your fault," Kylo said, leaning back until he could watch Hux upside-down, his hair spilling over Hux's thigh. 

"Shield better," Hux snapped, tearing his gaze back out the viewport.

"But you know how to do that pressure point thing," Kylo said, an edge of a pout in his tone. How anyone could  _ verbally  _ pout...

"So does Phasma. Bother her."

"Normally I do," Kylo said, poking Hux's leg. "But she'd toss me in the airlock. It's oh-two-hundred. Besides, she said she learned from you."

"So you waltz in here and demand that I fix your head?"

"You've been radiating tension for days. Give me a  _ break. _ I even brought tea."

Hux eyed the mug. It wasn't the flowery shit, but it was probably the last of their stash from Tatooine. Another thing on the long list of things they needed to think about restocking, on what little they had left in the way of credits. The rations were running low too, not that it was  _ tragic, _ exactly. With three  _ more  _ people to kit out and feed and occasionally patch up...

"Keep thinking about boring shit. That's better," Kylo said with an  _ indecent  _ sigh. Hux snagged an errant curl and tugged, earning a squawk. It was enough to make Hux's lips twitch involuntarily into a smile. 

"Don't be a pest," he said, without heat. 

"What more do you  _ want? _ I brought  _ tea," _ Kylo said, trying and failing to give him the big saucer eyes that only small children could use effectively. 

"The galaxy," Hux said, snorting softly. Rather than humor Kylo right away, he tried a sip of tea. Somehow the disaster learned how he liked it, and the temperature was even on the correct side of burning his tongue. At least the last of it got a proper send-off.

"You'd hate running the galaxy."

"Why? I always thought one of us would, eventually. Snoke is always so careful to keep his public presence minimized... And I was apparently  _ made  _ for it, after a fashion."

"You said it yourself," Kylo said, waving one hand vaguely as Hux set the tea down. "If you can't take  _ care  _ of something, you shouldn't  _ have  _ it. Can you really imagine trying to nanny the entire galaxy? It's full of people like me. You'd personally execute half the population before a year was out to save it from the other half, and then be annoyed all the time at the waste."

"Maybe I would delegate and fall into decadence."

"You have a  _ monk's  _ taste in decadence."

"I'm sure you have extensive knowledge of debauchery," Hux said dryly. Since he'd accepted the tacit bargain, he dug the fingers of his good hand into Kylo's hair, scritching little circles with his fingertips. Kylo shuddered, something very like a purr rumbling out of him as he relaxed into a melted little slump against Hux's leg.

They fell into quiet, save for the humming of the hyperdrive and the occasional relieved little huff from Kylo as Hux found some new tension spot and eased it. 

"I could try," Kylo said after a while, when Hux had largely abandoned trying to deal with Kylo's headache-- doing a massage one-handed made his hand cramp-- and resorted largely to just petting the surprisingly soft hair.

"Try what?" Hux said, blinking.

"Your hand. I could try helping with it," Kylo said, turning sleepy eyes on him. 

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

"Out of my head," Hux said tiredly.

"I don't need to read your mind to know you're lying," Kylo said, catching Hux's wrist before he could pull away. "It really  _ bothers  _ you."

"Don't cryptically talk around your point," Hux said, "It's too fucking late for that."

"Fine. It bothers you. That you don't know what to do," Kylo said, and something must have given him away because Kylo smirked at him. 

"If you think I'm going to start rambling about my  _ feelings--" _

"Please never do," Kylo said, "But you're worrying the others."

"I don't need to read minds to know  _ that. _ I'm sure everyone is regretting this venture," Hux ground out, tugging futilely against the grip on him.

"They're not worried about the  _ plan, _ ass. They're worried about  _ you. _ Stars, you've even got  _ me  _ doing co-commander things. I made an  _ operating budget _ this afternoon, Hux. I'm worried for my  _ sanity." _

"Calculating how many explosives you can buy with our remaining credits isn't a budget," Hux said. 

"Explosives are important line items for bounty hunters," Kylo said with a faint sniff, shifting so that they could face each other properly. 

"We're not--" Hux said, and then stopped. They  _ were  _ bounty hunters. Because they were all  _ traitors  _ even if he wanted to insist that their original death mark didn't count. They killed pilots and fixers and anyone else who generally got in their way. They slew one of Snoke's precious Knights of Ren.

_ We aren't the First Order, _ he'd said, but with a sickening lurch he could  _ feel  _ the truth of it. Even if by some miracle they  _ did  _ kill Snoke the second they landed, it would only be their fellow-traitors who rejoiced. The First Order would hunt them down to the last. They were trained to fight a  _ guerilla  _ war if they had to, for just such an occasion.

This was no misunderstanding. There was no going home ever again.

"I know," Kylo said softly.

"That we're not spending all our credits on explosives?" Hux said, though the attempt at a sally fell flat, too thready with realization.

Kylo snorted, tugging Hux's hand until his fingers brushed the scar that bisected his face. It healed dark red, like the bowcaster scar, a dashed line running from bicep to the opposite eyebrow where a lightsaber had landed a glancing blow. The wound had been horrific when fresh, third-degree burns that threatened infection even with bacta thanks to snow and ash from the fiery death of Starkiller Base grinding in. Even fully healed, it was impossible to hide, wide at the edge of his jaw, where there was still lingering nerve damage, and narrowing to a point over his eyebrow, where the lightsaber had nicked the bone at the ridge of his brow.

"I know what it's like," Kylo said, as Hux ran his fingers carefully down the line angled across his nose, guided along by Kylo's hand on his wrist. The skin was silk-smooth, not what he would have expected at all. "Sith destroy their bridges back, remember? It's how I got this."

"You're a terrible Sith," Hux managed, around the lump in his throat from the faint echo of old grief running down the bond. Or maybe it was a present grief, and it was Kylo feeling the echoes.

"And you're a general without an army," Kylo said, giving him a sardonic smile. "Feel free to join in on the dying of shame." He finally,  _ finally  _ let Hux's hand go.

"If I don't have an amy, I'm no general, am I?" Hux said, looking back out at the hyperspace around them.

"So what are you?"

"What are  _ you?" _ Hux countered.

"I don't know," Kylo said. The air crackled faintly, and Hux glanced back only to stop and stare. Sparks danced in Kylo's hand, the blue-white light of static charge almost playful as it arced and climbed between his fingers. "I am of the Dark. I can't get rid of the Light. I was a hopeless padawan, and I can't clearly remember half of my Sith apprenticeship. I don't even know if it was all for nothing or not. Any of it. How about you?"

_ "I don't know _ seems catching," Hux said, watching Kylo play with the lightning cupped in his palms a few moments more. The static disappeared as quickly as it was conjured, leaving behind a faint whiff of ozone, like the air before a thunderstorm. It tugged on a memory. One of the creche worlds he lived on, full of forest and mountains and big furry things with bigger teeth. He had been dropped on a wilderness survival exercise, and it had begun to thunder while he was scrambling down from a ridge. His hair had stood on end as the sky crackled, and in a panic he lost his grip and fell. It had been a bad landing-- the first time he'd broken a rib-- and the lightning striking the place he had been was a dazzling light, a deafening sound. He'd thought he was dead.

Maybe he was. That was a thought. Maybe he was sprawled in that projection room, missing important pieces of his brain, the rest sparking insane fantasy to comfort itself as everything shut down, piece by piece. It was no crazier than anything else that had happened.

Except his shoulder hurt, pulsing alongside the beat of his heart thanks to his own foolishness, and one of the first things he learned as a child was that pain meant you were  _ still alive. _

"How do you stand it?" Hux said.

"It beats  _ knowing," _ Kylo said with a shrug.

"Why do I talk to you?"

"Lack of options."

Hux sighed, which turned into a yawn. His body, it seemed, had finally won out over the endless spinning circles of his mind. Hyperspace swam madly, shimmering in the colors that said he was going to pass out whether he willed it or no in the near future. He shifted to move, not particularly keen on sleeping in the cockpit, and hissed when it jogged his shoulder and set a fresh wave of pain through the abused joint.

"Right. Forgot something," Kylo said, and he got back to his feet. "Hold still. I'll get the sling."

"Mouse isn't going to stab  _ you." _

"I know," Kylo said, a touch of a grin on his face. "Let me enjoy  _ not  _ being the impulsive one for a minute, huh?"

The bastard had to disappear into the corridor before Hux's sleep deprived mind could catch up with the comment. 

Kylo being responsible. It was the end of the  _ galaxy. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you hate when you're recklessly posting a work and drop a stitch and need to go back?
> 
> It's all better now. Enjoy the new ch 24 and the old ch 24 which is now 25. 
> 
> Forward movement in time will resume shortly.


	25. Chapter 25

"The girls are going to go  _ spare," _ KD-0789, who had shyly introduced himself as Hawke, said excitedly as he led the way through the universal chaos of an open-air market in what passed for Huju's largest population center.

"Let's hope  _ they  _ don't trip, too," Phasma said dryly, smirking as Hawke colored and turned his attention back on their actual path. Hux wasn't going to fault the stormtrooper for nerves, or the accompanying minor clumsiness-- there was obeying the in-case-everything-goes-to-complete- _ shit _ protocols, and then there was fighting the gnawing feeling of never having actually  _ earned  _ the name. Hells, it was an adjustment to speak one's name to a superior even if it  _ was  _ granted. Hawke bore up well under the circumstances, particularly after Hux had to remind the shaking trooper that anyone who could resist the compulsion toward self-destruction Snoke had unleashed on them all deserved to steal their name a little early.

He was never going to understand why patting someone on the back and stating the blindingly obvious always worked like magic on his underlings. At least it  _ worked. _

"I don't think I'd want to trip in the Observatory. Hagen's a nice old guy, but some of the  _ ghosts..." _ Hawke said, shuddering artfully. 

It really shouldn't have been a surprise to learn that the  _ entire planet _ was haunted. The ghosts were subtle, though after weeks of Anakin-fucking-Skywalker that wasn't any sort of stretch, but they were surprisingly numerous. Most of the time they were flickers of blue in the corners of Hux's vision, easy to dismiss as a flash of reflected light, or shadows that moved with just a little too much purpose. Even the more stable figures blended in, the faint halos of light and dark that seemed to be the main indicator of one's haunting status easy to miss in the bright afternoon sun. The market flowed around them, as if  _ everyone  _ was aware on some level that the ghosts were present, and he'd spotted more than one ghost surrounded by a gaggle of excited children.

"Will they be a problem?" Hux said, as they neared a side-path that would wind them up the canyon walls. Perched near the edge was a rambling tower, windmills tilted on any available horizontal surface at jaunty angles.

"They don't seem to have different rules from Anakin-- lectures and scariness is about it," Hawke said, "But getting bitched out at ass o'clock by someone who can make the air near your toes freeze isn't fun either."

"Speaking from experience?" Phasma said.

"Apparently some great-great-great aunt thought I was sleeping with Kris," Hawke said, making a face. "And has  _ opinions  _ about marriage."

"Doesn't sound worse than our current bunch, then," Phasma said with a knowing grin to Hawke's back. Hux snorted, letting his eyes wander the crowd again. They were of a type with the twins-- on the tall side and slender, brown skin patterened with greeny-blue spots that matched the extravagant hair the natives kept. He wasn't familiar at all with the species beyond that-- he should probably ask Mouse for a briefing. Kylo might also know something, but Kylo was back on the ship with Mouse working on coaxing the healing crystal back to life. Mitaka was likewise out of reach, drawing the unenviable task of scouting the city in case they had to deal with  _ yet another _ running battle.

They started climbing up stone steps carved into the graceful curve of the canyon walls. The whole city was the same way, a warren of rooms and tunnels built into the natural fortress of stone with stalls and shops littering the dried-up riverbed that ran through it. Plants bloomed everywhere, adding scent, color, and moisture to the otherwise mineral-sharp air of the scrubby desert where the canyon was sited. Some of the ramps and overhangs were shaded by canopies of cloth, others housed windmill towers similar to those that graced the ramshackle building Hawke was leading them steadily towards, as if the whole city had been planted thousands of years ago and just  _ stopped. _ It was only on close inspection that it was possible to make out the fact that some of the vines curled in the sun were arrays of miniature solar collectors, that most of the canopies adjusted their opacity to the direction of the sunlight, shifting shadows whenever a breeze ruffled them. A charming deception.

The door to the tower slammed open as they drew nearer, and KD-3168 bounded out before they'd even completely cleared the steps.

"Stars, you took  _ forever  _ out there!" she said, checking her forward momentum before she could crash into Hawke and managing a grin as she caught sight of the pair of them behind him. "You're all right! There were so many rumors when we broke up-- What happened?"

"I could ask you the same," Hux said, accepting a hand-clasp from the trooper and the dismayed noise she made. His injured arm was still in a sling-- he was healing ahead of schedule, but even at the accelerated rate he was another day or two from being able to start working on rebuilding his strength.

"Nothing as interesting as you," she said, taking a turn with Phasma as well. "We ended up riding out to Dathomir and hitched with traders the rest of the way. It's been quiet in this part of the galaxy. No adventures here."

"No risk, no reward," Phasma said with a philosophical shrug. "Are you going to introduce us?"

"Yes!" KD-3168 said, and led the way into the tower proper. "Grandpa!"

"What is it, my dear?" said a pair of feet dangling out of what looked suspiciously like a maintenance hatch. The voice creaked with the weathering of age, but the feet were wearing sensible boots and the same brown-and-ochre trousers that were apparently popular in the city.

"Our guests are here!" 

The feet abruptly dropped, and Hux felt his eyes go wide when he realized that the old man they were attached to hadn't been hanging off any safety line. He had been  _ levitating, _ and set himself down with a delicacy that none of them had managed in any of their telekinesis practice. He was of a type with his apparently-granddaughter, the coloring of his spots and hair gone yellow-green. A sign of aging? His features were youthful save for the barest hint of smile lines around his mouth and eyes, which were crinkled by the force of his grin.

"You must be the commanders the little ones talk about all the time," he said, nodding to them. "I am Hagen."

"Hux," he said, mirroring the gesture. "And this is Phasma. Hopefully you haven't been told too many wild stories."

"Wild stories... wild  _ stories. _ Hmmm..." Hagen said, tapping his chin as he twinkled at them dangerously. There was really no other way to describe the look he gave them. "I fear that when you reach a certain age, wild becomes something of a relative term."

"Even more if you have ghosts doing 'back in  _ my  _ day' stories all the time," KD-3168 said ruefully.

"There is that," Hagen said, shrugging a little. "The usual, I suppose. Hints chased by rumors and a few sand grains of truth. I am given to understand you defected from the First Order."

"It was better than dying," Hux said, trying to push down the scowl at the thought. The work of a lifetime, gone in less than an hour. Perhaps the thought was originally intended to break him-- he'd seen officers get intimate with their sidearms before for less.

"A lot of things are," Hagen said with a narrow-eyed look that Hux couldn't quite interpret. He could feel a thread of  _ presence  _ from the old man, an inquiring tendril that encountered Hux's shields and didn't linger to test them. "I take it you were going to spend the night on your ship?"

"There's no need for us to impose," Phasma said, an edge to her voice that told Hux she'd felt the subtle little probe too.

"Pish," Hagen said. "Plenty of room!"

"Mihali still upstairs?" Hawke said, stepping bravely into the stand-off. That explained the mystery of which twin was which-- Hux was having trouble telling them apart without their gear, their spot patterns too close to  _ quite  _ have differences memorized, though last he checked KD-3167 had a different nickname.

"Yes," Hagen said, and nodded to himself. "Actually, why don't you all come along? I can show you something."

"Gramps made her  _ calibrate  _ things all day," KD-3168, who still went by Kris, said as she wrinkled her nose.

"You are welcome to try it yourself anytime," Hagen said, leading the way to a metal staircase that spiraled up into the tower. "Stars know  _ someone  _ should succeed me at this."

"No, thanks," Kris said, waiting until the old man was most of the way up the stairs so she'd have a clear path to scramble up, followed gamely by Hawke. 

_ Looks safe enough, _ Phasma sent, faintly teasing. She started climbing before he could reply, and Hux rolled his eyes and followed. At least he was more-or-less used to feeling lopsided, so the tight twist of the stairs didn't throw his balance.

Upstairs was something altogether different, but it certainly  _ did  _ explain why the troopers all called the place the Observatory. The narrow height of the tower was transformed into a console and small circular viewing platform set in the middle of what had to be the most advanced set of holoprojectors Hux had ever seen, locking them in an infinite void spangled with distant stars as soon as they all cleared the staircase. Faint threads shimmered across the projection, webbing the stars together in some pattern he couldn't  _ quite  _ process, the sight like a word on the edge of recall. Seated at the console was KD-3167-- Mihali now-- who adjusted things with a look of fierce concentration.

Hagen stood at her shoulder, eyeing the threads with an expression torn between sorrow and pride.

"Relax, girl," he said softly, resting one hand on the nearest shoulder. "It  _ wants  _ to show you. Just let it guide your hands."

"Sure," Mihali said, "That's not creepy at  _ all." _

"You can always stop for the day and say hello to your commanders, then," Hagen teased, and barely avoided colliding with Mihali when she leaped up to do just that, reeling Phasma in for a handclasp with an efficiency that made the former-captain laugh. 

"You've been busy," Phasma said, giving Mihali a light shake of her shoulders. The trooper grinned at her, preening. 

"I wasn't sure how long we'd be waiting. Might as well learn how it all works, right?" she said, glancing past Phasma and  _ squeaking. _ "General!"

"Just Hux now," he said, letting her fuss much as her sister had. Mihali's presence ghosted out for a brief moment, concern washing over Hux like a gentle wave. He gave her just a brief flash of memory-- Mouse growling at him while they were landing-- and the concern transmuted into something very much like sunshine before pulling away.  _ Someone  _ had been learning more than just how to operate holo-equipment. 

"I'm Mihali now," she offered, smiling. "It... Our parents named me Mihali. Kris is staying Kris. Her other name is a little embarrassing."

"Thank you," he said, the only words that easily came to mind, for an instant the conversation a little too close to discussing tea with Kenobi for comfort.

"So did you get the thing to work?" Hawke said, poking Mihali in the shoulder once she finally let Hux go. 

"Not really. I can see how it  _ goes, _ but not how to get the Observatory to show it!" Mihali said with a sigh.

"It will come with time," Hagen said from his place slouched comfortably in the chair Mihali had abandoned. "Would you like me to show you again?"

"Please?" 

"Show what?" Phasma said, craning her head to watch the threads shift and dance.

"Ah, it's better to demonstrate than explain," Hagen said with a low chuckle. "Too many words." 

He made a show of stretching his fingers, smirking when Hux couldn't help a low snort at the delay. With the air of a musician tuning a beloved instrument, he began to work the console, adjusting the holocontrols in minute increments that seemed to make a difference as the projection spun and focused, the artificial sky zooming down into a starmap that Hux recognized-- the local sector, in a radius of just a few parsecs. On the heels of the realization, the threads spun into place, forming a more dense latticework of color and, oddly,  _ feeling. _ It shifted lazily, almost like waves on water, except for a brooding, darkish place in the western edge of the display. There, it seemed to almost be sucking the rest of the color in, crying softly to itself. A wound, healing slowly.

"You are strong in the Force. All of you," Hagen said quietly, "But what  _ is  _ the Force? Magic? Simply another of the fundamental forces of nature? And why are some of us able to feel it, to bend it with will and hope?  Are we meant to bind and control it? Are we its pawns?"

The Force. It was an observatory  _ of the Force. _ Hux felt a chill lurch down his spine. If Snoke was more than happy to derail a fleet for a  _ droid, _ what lengths would he go to for  _ this? _

"Not the whole speech, Grandpa!" Kris said with a groan. Hawke snorted on laughter, and Hagen sighed deeply and waved his fingers. 

"Kids! No respect for their elders!" Hagen said, though his smile was too broad to be faked.

"You've been sitting on this, for  _ this long..." _ Hux said.

"Sitting on what? It's a pretty starfield, but..." Phasma said, and Hawke likewise wasn't even watching.

_ "Interesting," _ Hagen said, twinkling again with a renewed sense of curious poking.

"Don't tease, Grandpa," Mihali chided as Hux glanced up again-- the stars were there, of course, but the threads were so  _ obvious... _

"It is a peculiar talent, to be able to operate the Observatory," Hagen said, patting the console as he started making more adjustments. "It takes years to even master the controls, years more to learn the signs and signals and translate them into something another would understand. Every keeper of the Observatory experiences it differently-- even Mihali and I, right now. Perhaps it's the general uselessness of this place that keeps it safe. But... that isn't why I brought you all up here."

The projection shimmered, its webwork fading out as the Observatory stopped-- magnifying? amplifying?-- the impression of the Force. Hux took a sharp breath, feeling the more mundane pressure of the happy market, the wild desert, coming down to himself as if he had been in null-g and not realized it.

"I will spare the children the full lecture," Hagen said, "Though those are questions that cross most new learners' minds. In these unsettled times, perhaps even more so than usual."

"The Force being out of balance. We keep hearing that," Phasma said.

"It's not a metaphor," Hagen said, his smile wilting. "Though it loses something in translation. Let me see."

The holoprojector hummed, a deep bass thrum that rumbled through Hux's bones, and once more the starfield burst into light. It was like the river of stars from a particularly dreamy meditation, each light a different hue until the whole expanse was one ever-shifting rainbow.

"This  _ is  _ a metaphor," Hagen said wryly. "But bear with me. Imagine each light is a being, and each color is the particular path of magic-- the Force, prana, chi, mana, spirit energy, the ley lines, the music of the spheres... it used to have many names. Once upon a time, before beings with minds and hearts left their cradle systems and went into the greater galaxy, it was all like this. Different names, different paths and devotions.

"The walkers of the paths left their cradles and went out into the worlds. Those who could not master the temptations of power fell to them, and became wicked and cruel. Those who were brave or foolish enough to resist them safeguarded those who could not fight back. And eventually, as I suppose it must, walkers of the path began to come together, to try and make sense of all the disparate traditions once and for all. A noble impulse, maybe, to seek deeper understanding of the Force.

"They created the ancient Order, out of pieces of hundreds, maybe thousands of traditions. They understood the Force as created of elements of light and darkness, opposites in harmony with each other. And because they dared to try and yoke together so many different walkers and paths, the Order grew very powerful. Stronger in the Force than many others, until even those who refused to have truck with the Order couldn't help stealing a word or two, here and there."

The lights shifted, a silvery blur forming in the middle of them. The Order, doubtless, since the color hadn't appeared in the display before. The blob grew happily, poaching from other colors, for some time. A natural result, if the Order was so much stronger-- who  _ wouldn't  _ want to seek more power or knowledge if it was there for the taking?

"And then, the great schism," Hagen said, and the silver pulled apart into lighter and darker shades, forming a figure of intertwined light and darkness, still growing. "And for the first time, whole  _ armies  _ of Force-wielders went to war."

The effect on the image was immediate. The light-dark silvery blob began to blur at the edges, lights winking out completely within the borders as it continued to eat at the other lights. Colors started to fade, replaced by the ashes of the old Order.

"It spilled over. Of course it did," Hagen said, "The first Jedi and the first Sith were eager to seek allies, and since each was hell-bent on wiping the other out... paths began to close off, their walkers all dead or fled to one of the twin orders. It spilled over into politics, too, as they goaded other, less-mystical allies into the fray. Even when there was peace for a time, there was no peace."

The river began to shred, only a few scant pockets of color remaining as the light and dark ate each other, one sometimes coming close to completely devouring the other, save for one or two small lights that quickly burned back into larger numbers. 

"Republic and Empire. Those battle lines were drawn ten thousand years ago, and by then  _ all  _ was polarized between this light and this dark. After all, sentient beings are how the universe knows itself. If all the Force's dear ones insist on light and dark, then that is what it must be."

"Our experience of the Force depends on what we bring to it," Hux said softly. Would Anakin's words always haunt him like this? "You mean that  _ literally." _

"A little yes, a little no," Hagen said, that twinkle finally hitting his eyes. "I am not sure, to be honest with you. I do know it didn't help-- the Jedi and Sith spindled things further, adopting more and more extreme views of light and dark to deny their common origin, until both were doing a very good job of willfully pretending that they weren't beings with minds and hearts at all."

The simulation kept going, the silvers slowly going away completely, the numbers of new lights dwindling. Light became a tiny fraction of what it was, and the dark barely a handful-- the supposed extinction of the Sith, perhaps? It seemed to be, when the brighter lights started winking out all on their own, drawn down to three, then two, then one, and then all but one of the darker spheres. The whole river of light, reduced to a few thin smears of a couple of colors and two lone pinpricks.

"Thirty thousand years in thirty seconds. Nice, isn't it?" Hagen said.

"Why tell  _ us  _ this?" Hux said.

"To protect themselves, many of those who would otherwise feel the Force willed themselves to sleep," Hagen said, cupping his hands into the display. Little bubbles floated into the display, shimmery outlines and nothing more. "But, make a large enough racket, and even the deepest sleeper awakens." The river of light, clear white, burst into being and enfolded all that floated in the display before.

"The paths of magic have willing walkers once again, and the Jedi and Sith are both near extinction. Will the twin orders save themselves and further the cycle of death? Will something new emerge from all of this confusion? I am not a prophet. I observe," Hagen said, "But because of  _ what  _ you are, I can tell you this.

"You are  _ all  _ already involved."

_ Safe enough, hmm? _ Hux sent to Phasma. She stuck her tongue out at him.


	26. Chapter 26

In the end, they decided to stay.

Mihali took a care package--  _ real food _ after weeks of field rations would have been criminal not to share-- and went to the still-nameless ship to add her own half-trained expertise to the mystery of the drained healing crystal. Over dinner, a curry fiery enough to make Hux's eyes water, Hagen told them rambling stories about his adventures around Huju and the rest of the sector. They were apparently new to Kris and Hawke, and if the troopers took on the burden of most of the conversation, Hagen didn't comment aside from the occasional prod to reciprocate. It  _ did  _ confirm old intelligence reports-- this sector's main export really  _ was  _ insane Force-users.

It was late when they wound down, taking another spiraling staircase into the bowels of the Observatory to find one of the canyon-city's warren-like homes, close and cozy and lit greenish from algae lamps brought in from outside. Despite the desert surrounding, there was water recycling efficient enough to permit a short real-water shower to those who wanted them, and there were blankets enough that everyone had an agreeable place to sleep, wrapped against the chill of the desert night.

Naturally, Hux couldn't sleep.

Whether it was normal insomnia or some  _ itch  _ from the Force he wasn't entirely sure. Despite the peace radiating from every curve in the rock and from his companions, he was restless with nervous energy, jittery despite the fact that there was no engagement planned, no hint that Celes Ren and her merry band had actually sniffed out their backtrail.

Hux let his feet take him up into the Observatory proper, rather than linger below and toss restlessly all night. Apparently Hagen was just as inclined to short sleep, because the old man was floating in the same access hatch he had occupied when Hux first met him, muttering in something too quiet to make out clearly. Floating nearby was a ghost-- with a start Hux recognized the robe. It was Jinn, sitting in a lotus position and craning his neck to see into the hatch Hagen was muttering at.

"You could try hitting it," Jinn said after a while.

_ "Percussive maintenance _ is why we are here today. Night," Hagen said, muffled by the machinery he was fiddling with.

"It'll be morning again soon," Jinn said with a chuckle. The ghost straightened up, stretching a phantom crick perhaps, and started when he caught sight of Hux. "Hello there."

"Jinn. Hagen," Hux said, nodding to them both despite the fact Hagen was more a pair of feet floating in his line of sight.

"Ah, to be young and never need to sleep," Hagen said, waving distractedly out of the hatch. "Good evening, general."

"I'm not a general any longer," Hux said tiredly, moving to stand near Jinn to see if he could glimpse what Hagen was messing with. It beat watching the stars, alone with his thoughts, for yet another night in a row.

"Perhaps not in title, but in bearing," Hagen said, "Some things can't be put aside so easily."

"If you say so," Hux said.

"Interesting meeting you here," Jinn said, apparently much more curious about  _ him  _ than the device. "Hagen told me about what happened."

"Then how can it be interesting?" Hux said, snorting faintly. "There isn't any more to tell."

"I find it best not to rely on secondhand accounts," Jinn said, amusement coloring his voice.

"Ha! Got it!" Hagen said triumphantly, just as a terrible wail shrieked through the entire room, loud and high enough to make whatever speaker it was coming from squeal with feedback.

"Un-get it!" Jinn said. Hagen yelled something-- Hux couldn't make it out when the speakers cried again-- and did something else, making the sound cut out mid-scream. The sudden silence was deafening, at least until a few moments later when Phasma clattered up the stairs, a blaster clutched in her hand, the junior pair right on her heels.

"What's going on?" she said, moving to cover the ground-floor exit when no target immediately presented itself.

"Are you alright?" Kris said, likewise shifting to cover the stairs up as Hawke remained with the stairs down. It was instinctual, efficient-- and Hux felt tension ease out of him at the sight, palming the knife he snatched from his boot before anyone could comment on it. A cube dropped out of the hatch, crackling with sparks, and Hagen floated down after it, frowning. He nudged it with a toe when his feet touched the ground, carefully scooting it into a pail without touching it barehanded.

"We're all fine," Hagen said with a sigh, picking up the pail and gingerly setting it down on a workbench. "It was the machinery. Blasted broken recording."

"What was that?" Hux said, peering dubiously up into the hatch. The others slowly lowered their blasters, Hawke stifling a yawn with one hand.

"That  _ thing  _ was the fritzy piece?" Kris said, glancing at Hux and then Hagen.

"Yes," Hagen grumbled, "Should have remembered from the last kriffing time." He waved them over to the table and its assortment of chairs, Jinn floating after them.

"To be fair, it's not a common occurrence," Jinn said, while Hagen continued to irritably mutter and fix himself tea.

_ "What's _ not a common occurrence?" Hux said, wishing he could cross his arms and settling for glaring at them both at the neat sidestep to his question.

"The death of a planet," Hagen said, fixing Hux with a glare of his own. "Sit, sit. I'll explain in a moment."

Hux sat, taking the spot next to Phasma. She leaned against him briefly, their arms brushing in silent support as Hagen took the last chair, staring into the distance as he stirred his tea.

"I can--" Jinn started, but Hagen raised a finger at the ghost and sipped his tea. 

"The twin orders speak of the Force as something created by life, but I think they may have forgotten what that  _ means," _ Hagen said, lowering his finger and the tea together. "When beings die, their bodies decompose and return to the planet, yes? But the energy that kindles  _ life  _ in this crude matter we all carry around... that returns as well, to the planet and ultimately to the Force."

"I could not tell you what happens to the soul," Jinn said ruefully, before anyone could ask. "I chose to loiter here."

"Any death can color the Force-- think of it as the color of the being who just died merging with that of the surroundings," Hagen said, "Those strong enough, color things for a while even if they leave this plane. Enough deaths... Create disturbance. A stain in the Force itself."

"Billions of voices crying out in terror, and suddenly silenced," Jinn said.

"A cry like that can be felt clear across the galaxy, and can color the Force for  _ years  _ afterward," Hagen said, nodding. "Not to mention blow out half of my poor Observatory's systems."

"I wasn't just imagining," Hawke said, a little awed. 

"No," Hagen said, patting his shoulder. "But! We are all safe from recordings, and it's far too late or too early to be trying to be productive people. Back to bed!"

"Maybe for you, old man," Phasma said with a snort, rubbing her face. "I'm going to check in with the ship. Someone ought to be on watch."

"I'll come with," Kris said with a shiver, following obediently in Phasma's wake as they descended again. 

"Told you it was a bad idea to wait until everyone was asleep to fix it," Jinn said mildly, getting a sour look from Hagen. 

Hux got to his feet, heading for the other door. "I think I'll get some air after all," he murmured before he could be asked, slipping outside just as Hawke piped up to ask about what the hell was sitting in that pail.

The utter lack of light pollution meant that the stars were thick over the Observatory, and the view coreward was a rippling band of milky light. Hux leaned on the closed door, all the better to make sure nobody was going to chase after him, and tilted his head back to watch them. The atmosphere made the stars swim and twinkle and cast a faint blue-purple sheen on the sky-- easy to see after so many years in the black, with its unchanging diamond points against the velvet of eternal night. Meteors zipped by, their common point of origin a clue that it might be a regular shower. Huju wasn't subject to a lot of starship travel, had no orbital installations save for an average suite of satellites-- the usual scientific instruments and geopositioning that any basic colony world would have. Nothing at all to take away from the spectacular view.

"A strategic retreat, general?" Hagen said, and Hux blinked. There was a narrow balcony overhead, and the old man was a dark shadow against the sky. Somewhere along the line, Hagen had acquired a pipe, and the fragrant smoke of whatever he was indulging in drifted down on the breeze.

"Just routine," Hux said neutrally. It was true enough-- he'd spent the bowels of many a night watch stargazing when he ran out of other stray tasks to complete. Hagen hummed, the contemplative little noise that often accompanied that twinkling look.

"I should hope terror in the middle of the night isn't routine," Hagen said.

"Not in a long while," Hux said, laughing faintly at the way the old man seemed to edge back from the railing.

Shooting stars kept up their arc overhead, their lights flaring and dying. The meteor shower wasn't the only source-- a couple slanted in crossways.

"You were First Order," Hagen ventured after a while. "I wonder. Do you think he regrets it?"

"Who?" Hux said.

"The one who ordered the destruction of the Hosnian system."

Hux breathed a faint sigh. "I don't know."

That, too, was true enough. The plan had always been to pick a war, to use the element of surprise to deal a mortal blow to the Republic before the First Order could be wiped out by numerically superior foes-- the likelihood that Republic and Empire would set aside their differences in the face of a new threat was too great to risk conventional warfare. It was why Snoke authorized the Starkiller project in the first place, appropriating even the most insane theoretical weapons to achieve the goal. Hux's career had been linked to Starkiller Base long before his promotion to general to oversee the lagging construction-- it was  _ his  _ theoretical hypercannon that formed Starkiller's launch system. But  _ standing  _ there, alternately freezing and sweltering as the planet they'd gutted breathed fire into hyperspace... 

There was no triumph. No cheering despite the prompts from the propagandists who flitted nervously around their precious stage. Nothing but silence and the tortured scream of the star they wounded so they could fling its heart at the heart of the Republic. Perhaps it hadn't been Starkiller  _ alone  _ that was screaming that day.

What had Kodi said? They were all sons of bitches now.

"It is a neat piece of horror, isn't it?" Hux said softly. "Press a button. End a world."

"Aren't they all?" Hagen said.

Hux breathed in to reply and stopped, freezing as he caught motion against the stars. Not quite a meteor-- this one was too bright, too  _ slow  _ for that. And it was getting slower, coming almost to a relative  _ stop. _

"Do you have macrobinoculars?" Hux said, turning to face Hagen, who squinted up at the stars in turn.

"Better. Inside," Hagen said, turning sharply to disappear into the Observatory's upper level. Hux yanked open the door, brushing by Hawke who was making tea, and climbed the twisting steps into the holoprojector room. Hagen was already busy at the controls, and a view of space above Huju flickered into being. 

"What's going on?" Hawke said, poking his head into the room. Something big was taking shape above the planet, like an ungainly bird.

"Kriffing... Something's hitting satellites. I'm going to have to image this with the Force," Hagen said, smacking the panel in front of him.

"Are we under attack?" Hawke said, looking between them as he finished climbing into the holoprojector room.

"Not  _ yet," _ Hux said, hissing a breath between his teeth as the wavery image sharpened marginally. He couldn't read the identifying legend, but  _ what  _ had pulled into orbit was clear enough. Arrow-shaped head, long neck, and a body that curved down into malformed wings tipped with heavy turbolaser batteries. "Heavy cruiser. It'll disable observation posts with ion waves first before the captain makes any demands."

As he spoke, more blurred birds flickered into being, roiling and flickering as if they were made of clouds. Light and sharpness abruptly disappeared from the neck of the lead cruiser, and it sprouted little lights that swarmed and disappeared like a blown out puffball weed.

"You are watching the crew," Hagen said to the question that hung in the air. "I don't have the resolution to image the ships directly, not until ground telescopes start getting pictures."

"Carriers," Hux said. "They're setting up a blockade pattern. Watch for larger ships launching from them-- those will be the troop transports for ground invasion." He took a deep breath, reaching out for Phasma down below and Kylo back on the ship. Kylo was still grudgingly awake, Phasma's faded amusement probably the reason why. 

_ We have incoming, _ he sent them both, along with a fast impression of what Hagen was feeding through the projector.

_ For us or the Observatory? _ Phasma sent wryly, amusement draining away to alert wariness. He had the faint impression of her gathering up Kris and their gear.

_ Let's not wait around  _ in  _ the Observatory to find out. _

"We need to get to the ship," he said aloud. "We may be able to get into their comms and see what's going on."

_ Mitaka's on it, _ Kylo sent,  _ But they have new encryption keys. It's going to take time. _

"Go on. I'll spread the word," Hagen said grimly as the sky continued to fill with smears of light. It was far too much force for such a backwater world-- ordinary operating procedure would dictate simply hitting the space launch facilities and picking off anyone foolish enough to bolt from ground forces, not setting up a blockade more appropriate for a trade center.

"Will you be all right here?" Hawke called, pausing where he was already halfway down the stairs.

"I've survived my share of mad Sith lords," Hagen said, "But you'd best not waste your chance to get going."

Hux pulled his comm out of his pocket and tossed it to Hagen, who almost missed catching it.

"Channel four. Not unless you need to," he said, and started down after Hawke. Phasma was waiting, and they paused only long enough to make sure the stormtroopers' gear was evenly distributed, Mihali's kit going to Hawke's custody since his usual heavy repeater would make for a liability in the canyon city's twisting passages. Hagen appeared on the steps as Phasma slipped out the door, and pressed something into Kris's hand just before she followed. Hux went next, silently cursing the injury that put him in the middle, then Hawke as the rear guard.

"May the Force be with us all," Hagen said from the doorway, a last benediction as they tore out into the quiet night.


	27. Chapter 27

"Are we really doing this?" Mouse said, the fragile flame of the healing crystal cupped in her hands, limning her black skin with gold. Hux stretched, feeling the newly-healed joint complain at the resumption of movement. It was just stiff, despite the fact that ordinarily he could have expected weeks of physical therapy to restore the injury. 

"I can't see another way out," he said quietly, gathering up the now-useless sling. He set it aside, on the bunk converted to a semi-private medical bed thanks to Mouse's ingenuity with field supplies. 

"Bastards," Mouse grumbled, "It's not  _ our  _ war anymore." Her lip curled as if she'd bitten something bitter. "All the places in the galaxy for them to hit..."

"I know," Hux said, "You can still sit out. There's going to be urgent need for medics on the ground..."

She thumped his uninjured shoulder,  _ tsking  _ at his presumption. 

"Don't try to talk me out of things."

"Only if you stop, too," he said, resisting the temptation to rub the sore spot. It would only encourage her. Instead, he slipped on the cloak Hagen had provisioned them with the night before, waiting for Mouse to stow the crystal and do likewise before they joined the others gathered at the ramp. The summons came the night before, accompanied by the set of thermal cloaks that would hide their movements from the cruisers in orbit.

All crews stranded by the blockade were cordially invited to participate in a counter-offensive, briefing to be held in the dead of night when the most experienced sensor officers were likely to be in their beds. 

After two restless days spent listening to comms chatter and waiting for the ground assault to begin, even hearing out a  _ stupid  _ plan seemed better. The blockade fleet itself was content to sit there-- whether waiting for the arrival of a ground force or for just such an attempt at a counter-offensive an open question. Hux knew what  _ he  _ would do, but Snoke set yet another Ren-- this one male and short and full of eager energy that was like and unlike Kylo's perpetual restlessness-- in joint command with Admiral Quarrel of First Fleet, his usual errand-boy among the First Order when naval combat was called for. Their voices had been in multiple transmissions, too many for it to be a ruse, but someone had the sense to change the verbal codes in the interim since Sixth Fleet's destruction. Judging by the chatter, the cruisers could just as easily be parked to take some esoteric advantage of a local planetary alignment as to be an  _ actual  _ move in the First Order's war with the remains of the Republic.

They didn't waste words, setting off to join the quiet mass of beings streaming from the landing field outside the city. It wasn't wise to speak under an open sky anyway-- quiet footsteps en masse were risky enough given the likelihood that surveillance droids had been dispatched. Their goal was deep in the cave warren, the way inside marked by sprays of faintly luminous white flowers at every doorway into the complex.

_ Grandpa says he saved us a seat, _ Mihali sent, her thought quiet and shy. She was farthest along of the three stormtroopers, having already started training her powers under Hagen, but bringing the others up to speed had been the second priority after learning what the hell the fleet was up to. Telepathy was droid-proof, after all.

_ Just what I always wanted, _ Kylo sent dryly.

_ You should try to be nice, _ Mihali sent, Phasma's sense of  _ intent  _ dissipating into humor as the young trooper beat her to the comment. 

_ Yeah, _ Kyle. _ You can't stay bitter about that forever, _ Phasma sent, teasing, and Hux could make out Mihali's faint flush as she stepped past them to take point. Kylo sent them all the mental equivalent of an eyeroll, the sort of  _ watch-me-ignore-you _ feeling that would have been at home coming from Millicent.

They ducked into a tunnel at Mihali's silent direction, her presence going abstracted as she took direction from her grandfather. A number of twists and two flights of steps later, and the tunnel opened into a cavernous space, easily large enough to hold half a star destroyer's crew. Here, away from the prying eyes in the sky, the air buzzed with nervous speculation, the feeling thick enough that Hux had to reinforce his shields against it. Much of the available seating was devoted to locals, dressed similarly enough to count as a casual interpretation of a uniform, and their eager  _ lean  _ toward the hologram floating above their heads didn't dissipate the impression that these were the native fighter jocks. By contrast, the other crews milled and fidgeted, traders playing soldier.

Hagen they found in a prime spot for viewing the holographic globe serving as a placeholder, sitting alone in a bubble of quiet as they drew near. 

"They're going to get started soon," he said by way of greeting, getting up to hug his granddaughters. "Did you have any trouble?"

"No, the cloaks look like they worked fine," Phasma said, "Is this really everyone?"

"We don't have a standing army as such," Hagen said, resuming his seat. The rest of them settled around him, and Hux found himself watching the crowd as it slowly hushed. The mad leader of this enterprise was coming in-- he could see the ripple travel through the pilots, as their focus shifted to a tall figure making its way to the center of the room. She was local, her skin the same bark-brown, though the pattern of her blue-green spots made rosettes instead of the dappled circles that Hagen and the twins had. Unlike practically all the city's inhabitants, her blue-green hair was cropped short. It lent her a severe, businesslike air, which was reinforced when she stepped up to the holoprojector decisively, flicking the globe to a more traditional tactical display of the ships in orbit.

"Good evening," she said, "For those of you who don't know me, I am Minister Safir. I will be coordinating our part in this operation."

"Our part?" one of the other outside crewers said, earning exasperated looks all around. Good. At least  _ some  _ of the other spacers had passing familiarity with tactical briefings.

"Yes. Thanks to quick action by Elder Hagen, we were able to request aid before communications jamming went into effect," Safir said. "But because of the high probability of surveillance I will be keeping this briefing to  _ our  _ role. We wouldn't want the First Order to learn too much about the surprise party we're planning. Do not fear-- our analysis of the upcoming encounter is favorable. We  _ will  _ break this net."

She tapped a few keys, and the display shifted, zooming in on one of the carriers before switching to a status-readout screen with a rough breakdown of the ship's power output, armaments, and estimated number of TIE fighters. Hux hummed faintly as the room began to murmur again-- the fleet had been handpicked with a world like Huju in mind. Plenty of fighter wings to take on the sort of light craft that could easily make a habit of landing in such primitive space facilities, with the cruisers' heavy armament to blow through any attempts to match forces fighter-for-fighter. 

"We will be focusing our attention on three of the carrier-cruisers-- the  _ Dauntless, _ the  _ Vengeance, _ and the  _ Intrepid," _ Safir said, flicking the status-read aside and bringing up the tactical display again, in reduced size. Three of the ships lit red, all of them patrolling in formation in the southern hemisphere, not particularly far from the canyon city. "This should draw forces to our location to reinforce the net-- let them think that we panicked, and we're trying to punch through and petition the Republic for help. When the battle is joined, other offensives will be launched against the other capital ships. They are not fielding hyperspace-capable TIE fighters, so once the big fish are done, the little ones will make for a mop-up mission. I do not think it will be an  _ easy  _ mop-up mission, but normal traffic should be able to resume."

"So what's the catch?" one of the fighter pilots said, so smooth that it might have been a cued response.

"The catch is the fleet's little  _ augmentation," _ Safir said, waving at the network of ships. One blinked and lit gold. "Their Knight of Ren. Having a Force user in a command post changes things. We do not know much about the capabilities of the Knights of Ren specifically, but Force users in the past have been able to use their abilities to coordinate large-scale assaults to a degree higher than normal beings are capable of. A melding of minds, as it were, to mold the attacking fleet into something more resembling a single entity. If this Knight is trained in such techniques, our simple plan will become a nightmare.

"We know their flagship is the cruiser-carrier  _ Relentless. _ What we  _ need  _ is a crew bold enough to take the risk of boarding and at least pinning down their Knight of Ren until the offensive has had a chance to knock down their forces."

_ So a batshit insane suicide mission, _ Phasma sent.  _ The  _ real  _ catch. _

_ Not necessarily. If the  _ Relentless  _ is outfitted for fighter wings like the rest, there won't be much crew to supplement the pilots and their support staff. A force that knows what it's doing could take the ship, _ Hux sent, turning the idea over in his mind. 

_ As if a bunch of yokel fighter jocks and freighter captains who maybe know what button to push for the gunnery emplacements will be able to pull it off, _ she sent.

_ Can the Knights of Ren  _ do  _ what Safir is talking about? _ Hux sent, tugging Kylo into the silent conversation. The briefing was devolving into a blizzard of specific questions, most of them redundancies from the spacer crews. He was already well aware of the capabilities of the TIE/fo and the Majestic-class heavy cruiser.

_ Battle meditation, _ Kylo sent, thoughtful.  _ There's a trick to it, but it's possible. It requires a level of inner quiet that's hard to achieve.  _

_ For you or normal people? _ Hux sent, half-smiling at the pure  _ irritation  _ Kylo sent.

_ Is it even going to be worth the trouble of a boarding action? _ Phasma sent. The overall conversation was sliding over into discussion of credits and compensation-- business as usual for the other crews, perhaps. Hux had no idea what the going rate for mercenaries was, or how combat hazard pay was supposed to compare to it. Calculating leave stipends and exemplary action bonuses was not his normal department-- that was what  _ civil service _ was for.

_ If this Knight  _ can  _ accomplish battle meditation, I would prefer not to be part of the general shooting gallery, _ Hux sent.

_ If there's a prize for taking out a cruiser, it'll be worth it, _ Kylo added, jamming his own estimation of what the offered compensation was worth after the thought. If it was accurate...

Mouse tapped the link, smiling sardonically at them and their unconscious lean toward each other as they considered the plans before them. Phasma tugged her in, curious.

_ Are we going to be pirates now? _ Mouse sent, amused.  _ You three are practically vibrating. _

_ Eight rebels took Starkiller Base. The eight of  _ us  _ can manage one cruiser, _ Hux offered, the seed of a plan already forming. Quarrel couldn't go a single grand strategy meeting without wanting to call Snoke and get input every quarter-hour. Dangle the rogue Force-users Snoke had been chasing in front of Quarrel's nose...

_ Oh, stop. You're going to make me nostalgic, _ Mouse sent, laughing softly.

The sound hit a lull in the conversation. Kylo pressed a memory on Hux before he could think to ask for it-- Safir had asked again if anyone was willing to take on the task of  _ distracting  _ the Knight of Ren, the spacer crews staring at each other, torn between greed at the prize for success and the very high likelihood of deadly failure. Heads turned, and Hux found himself smiling as the spacers' trepidation rolled over them. 

_ I suppose if you want it done  _ right, _ you hire professionals, _ Phasma sent, a faint chuckle of her own audible in the nervous quiet.

_ You're the one who said we should try getting paid, _ Hux sent, getting to his feet, feeling the rightness of the moment, the anticipation crackling along the open links between them. 

"We'll take the  _ Relentless," _ he said, and grinned as whispers grew around them.

Safir gave them a  _ measuring  _ look and slowly echoed his smile. "Very well, Captain..?"

"Hux."

"Captain Hux. Thank you. We launch at first light, local time," she said, raising her voice to carry over the crowd. "If you need assistance in preparation, we have ground crews ready to go. Pick up a copy of our encryption key on the way out. We will use them on all active operational lines, so don't forget it if you plan on attending this little party.

"Good luck. And good hunting."


	28. Chapter 28

"You kriffing  _ son of a Hutt!" _

Shoved into the shielded smuggler's compartment along with the rest of the strike team, Hux lunged for the hatch just as it slammed in his face. He didn't let that stop him, throwing his entire bodyweight against the panel. Despite the latches that would let someone on the inside open it, the entire thing refused to budge.

_ Tell me how you really feel, _ Kylo sent, the edge of a hysterical laugh in the words. Hux hit the panel again, and likely he was going to have bruises running up and down his arm at the rate he was going. Probably Phasma sensed his intent, because she pried him away from the hatch before he could try and throw himself at it a third time, the both of them narrowly missing getting brained by a conduit running near the top of the compartment as they stumbled back.

"We're going to lose our window, sir," Mitaka said quietly, looking ghostly in the halflight of his datapad.

_ "Fuck," _ Hux hissed, taking the comm Mitaka offered as he felt the ship's vibration pick up, engines kicking on right on schedule. 

Trust Kylo to completely fuck up the plan  _ five whole minutes _ into it.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Hux roared into the line, not having to  _ feign  _ anything. The others winced, but that was a large part of why  _ he  _ was supposed to be in the cockpit. In the cockpit, and  _ not  _ plastered to Phasma in the claustrophobic space because there really wasn't anywhere else to move. The artificial gravity wasn't tuned to work so well in what was originally meant to be extra cargo space, and the fast acceleration threatened to fling them around.

"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" Kylo shot back, the line riddled with static as the comms array fought the jamming over Huju. Mitaka had done some expert relay work. It did not mollify Hux's temper.

"Get back here!" 

"No, thanks," Kylo said.  _ You know I'm the more logical choice. They're not going to resist a shot at capturing me. Besides, it's about time we evened up the score. _

"Kylo, I swear--" Hux hissed.  _ There is no evening up the score because I'm going to have to  _ rescue  _ your absolutely moronic ass! _

"What are you going to do? Tattle on me to Snoke like always?" Kylo said, practically sing-song, "Good luck with that. He might even  _ let  _ you before he finishes what he started. Let the little general bark at nothing before--"

The comm let out a tortured squeal, the relay route finally falling victim to the jamming field as Kylo broke from atmo.

_ I know you'll catch me. _ Kylo cut the mental connection on that thought, shielding the bond down to the tiniest thread of  _ here-alive-ok _ possible.

"I'm going to shoot him," Hux said, passing the device back to Mitaka before he was tempted to break it. The comm did not do anything to him. It did not deserve to die.

"Should we modify the plan?" Phasma said, a steady presence at his back while he tried to get his temper back under control. He felt his ears pop as his breathing steadied, some of the oppressive weight gone from the tiny compartment, even if some evasion of Kylo's slewed them all into the wall a breath later.

"No," Hux said finally, once the ship's course corrected, "Who plays bait is largely immaterial. We can make do without the second lightsaber."

"We can always pick up an arc cutter when we get there," Hawke said with the sort of plastic cheer that meant the man was  _ trying. _

"Assuming we get there. It's gonna be  _ embarrassing  _ if he actually runs the blockade," Kris said, thumping Hawke at his snort.

"Quiet, all of you," Phasma said before the speculation could get out of hand. There was a quiet chorus of affirmatives, and then silence descended, save for the inevitable small noises when a daring maneuver threw them all into each other.

It was taking too long, even though they were only minutes past breaking atmo-- he couldn't imagine that even the  _ Ren  _ was ignorant about the state of things, even if the timing was too close to be a specific pursuit. Or was the delay over whether to capture or kill? The ship could  _ take  _ a direct hit or three, but--

The ship juddered, the characteristic lurch of a tractor beam overpowering a star drive. 

"Link up if you have them," Hux murmured, "Signal silence begins now." 

The troopers, wided-eyed and washed-out by the faint illumination of Mitaka's datapad, nodded solemnly. The Force shivered, a subtle change in configuration, and Phasma  _ nudged  _ him in her turn. He took the offered link, feeling a faint echo of her awareness of the troopers, the stillness she always seemed to radiate when they were walking into a firefight. Kylo was a faint flicker of trepidation, closed off as much as anyone who felt like a beacon could be.

That  _ was  _ an issue, wasn't it? Kylo might be strong enough to swamp them all at the moment, but if he was removed from the ship... Hux tugged on the link, weaving the shield of  _ not-here, not-here _ around all of them. Mitaka bit off a gasp as the light from his datapad winked out, right on time with the thump of the ship settling in a hangar. 

The First Order didn't waste time-- Quarrel might dither with command decisions, but operationally things were sound. The smuggler's compartment muffled sounds,  _ presence  _ storming aboard before Kylo erupted into fury and motion. Hux couldn't quite track the fight-- he wasn't used to sensing this way, and besides he had to maintain their cloak. More people, specialized stormtroopers, probably, swarmed on, and he felt the electric crackle of stun grenades. Quarrel or the Ren or Snoke himself wanted Kylo alive. The smell of a protracted battle-- smoke and ozone and scorched plastics alongside the animal scent of burned flesh-- filtered into the compartment, but they were all bound to remain silent and still. 

The sounds of fighting began to die down, and  _ darkness  _ swept over the ship, thick enough that he almost sneezed. The Ren. Hux clamped down on the urge to check the bond, find out how Kylo was doing-- the idiot had decided to take his place in the ploy, and he was going to have to  _ deal  _ with that. Even when the bond  _ pulled, _ something about it  _ yanked  _ out of joint with enough force to spike pain right behind his eyes, Hux grit his teeth and redoubled the shield over them all, feeling the pain fade as Phasma steadied him, the  _ green  _ of her washing over him. 

For a beat, there was silence.

Footsteps rang overhead, marching cadence, a sense of  _ satisfaction  _ oozing over his strained senses. It wasn't Kylo-- there was a dead-air quality to the bond, the piece of  _ otherness  _ lodged in his soul keening quietly at the loss but not  _ gone  _ as he imagined it must be if Kylo was dead. Another inhibitor, probably. It was as unpleasant second-hand as it was to try it himself.

A sensor team's sweep took fifteen minutes, ten if the group was being sloppy. Hux busied himself with counting off the time in his head, a calming metronome.

Phasma slid forward, Hux eeling out of the way as best he could to cover her as she cautiously popped the hatch on the compartment. He felt her flick her senses out as she squinted for a visual check.

_ Clear. Here we go, _ she sent, a flicker of eager flame lapping at the edge of the connection as she silently dealt with the panel and leaped out of the compartment with a touch of the Force. With the advent of light, Hux repeated the sentiment, flashing through the requisite hand-code for the benefit of those not privy to telepathy. He got raised fists in salute, and followed Phasma out. 

They skipped compartment to compartment, trading advance and cover. At the bottom of the ramp was a pair of troopers, guarding the ship against interference. There was a flash of orange against a ventilation grate-- Millie, her vivid green eyes questioning as they passed. She at least had the sense to stay out of the way, though her frustration at the interlopers who dared take her human was clear in the stiff line of her back and the restless swish of her tail. She gave him a sour look and padded away, likely to take up one of her favored haunts and wait out the excitement. 

It was a pity  _ Kylo  _ couldn't manage that sort of sense.

Phasma and Kris took point, stretching the shield, and snapped the necks of the two guards with brisk efficiency. Mitaka followed, attaching a portable holo unit to the top of the entry ramp. Moments later, two stormtroopers blinked into existence, light sculpted precisely enough to pass a cursory inspection. Bodies weren't hard to dispose of-- this was a working hangar bay and there was room amid the munitions racks for absent TIE fighters to stash the unlucky guards. 

They scattered to their tasks, Hux holding their bubble of  _ not-here _ as long as he could before distance left the others on their own. He felt oddly spindled as the shield contracted back on itself, and shook his head to clear it as he followed Hawke, taking Kylo's place in the plan.

Mouse to medical-- she could override environmental controls from the CMO station, impose quarantine protocols to lock down as much of the on-board crew as possible. Mitaka and Mihali to the central computer core-- while no ship engineer with sense bothered with extensive slave systems, there were still things the pair could go to put the  _ Relentless  _ out of the hands of the command staff. The rest of them ran forward, splitting up when the maze of corridors diverged between flight control and the bridge-- someone was going to have to get the tractor beam turned off, and then of course was the matter of rescuing their wounded bird. Quarrel couldn't take a trip to the head without consulting Snoke. The requisite holoprojection capability would be near the bridge.

The ship's intercom buzzed and cracked before shrilling an all-call, providing cover for them to shoot the guards on the central lift bank. 

"Brothers and sisters of the First Order," Quarrel began, priggish shit that he was, "The Supreme Leader, in his great wisdom--"

_ So how long have we got? _ Phasma sent, unclipping her lightsaber from her belt.

_ With his droning? Another ten minutes until he gets to the point, _ Hux sent as they stepped into the lift. He didn't bother pushing buttons, pulling open the panel to manually input the command.

"Will serve as a reminder of the fate that awaits all rebel scum--"

_ The Ren's up with Kylo, _ Phasma remarked blandly, pushing over her impression of the faint absence in the Force, almost drowned out by the shadows the Ren put off.

_ You take him. I'll take Quarrel, _ Hux sent, smiling grimly as the lift sprang to life.

"These traitors, these  _ Resistance agents," _ Quarrel was saying, an overwrought tremor in his voice, "Who have  _ forced  _ us into war with the Republic, shall not be tolerated one moment longer than it takes to execute them!"

_ So. That's the angle, _ Hux sent, snorting softly. A passable political ploy assuming one's opponent didn't yet have intelligence on the makeup of the First Order's fleet structure or command staff. Anyone with the barest working knowledge would be able to see through such a tissue-thin story, but perhaps that was giving the Republic's forces  _ credit. _

Phasma had been able to register them all as bounty hunters, after all.

_ Do you think anyone really buys it? _

_ I suppose it's really a matter of whether it's politically expedient to buy it. _

The lift began to slow, and Hux reached back into the panel to lock its location. No need to get stranded on the bridge floor just because someone pushed a call button.

They were greeted with a hail of blaster fire from a line of troopers stationed at the bridge. Phasma was out like a shot herself, her lightsaber a verdant blur as she deflected the bolts back to their origin points, keeping Hux clear to return fire at a more leisurely pace. There were panicked screams of  _ Jedi  _ as blast doors closed over the bridge entrance, Phasma's mocking cackle echoing wildly in the suddenly narrow space.

They picked off the remaining troopers, who had been caught outside at their commander's cowardice, before turning their attention to the door. Before Hux could find a panel and work on it, Phasma shrugged to herself and plunged the lightsaber blade straight into the metal, which bubbled up molten almost immediately.

_ Dramatic, _ Hux chided, taking a moment to trade his pistol for a rifle and disable the biometric scanner that kept it locked.

_ Why let Kylo have all the fun all the time? _ Phasma sniped back, laughter ringing the thought. She hacked a roughly circular hole through the blast doors, and Hux could feel the confusion and fear radiating from the bridge beyond. They both held up their hands, uniting to slam the Force into the weakened durasteel and send the plug of metal flying across the raised officers' concourse to slam spiderweb cracks into the viewport up front. The bloody smear against the transparisteel said they'd eliminated at least one enemy that way, as they calmly stepped through their makeshift door.

Kylo was between two stormtroopers, a purpling bruise at his jaw and looking very much like his captors would be  _ on fire _ if not for the new band around his throat. The Knight of Ren was nearby, their skull-like mask swiveling to turn away from Quarrel-- and the Admiral looked very much like he was ready to faint or throw up, but the man looked like that half the time anyway. Bridge crew was still primarily in the control pits, but Hux could feel  _ confusion  _ turn slowly to  _ resolve, _ and knew their window to act was shrinking. 

Phasma must have caught it, because she held her free hand out imperiously,  _ tugging  _ with the Force at the Knight's belt. Kylo's lightsaber unhooked and flew free, landing precisely in her palm with a muted slap, and she immediately flicked it on, red and green blades humming harmony as the Knight in turn snatched and ignited their own blade.

Hux took in the tense quiet, two steps away from exploding into a general melee, and grinned at Quarrel, slowly. 

"Hello, there," he said, "Did you miss me?"

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the ride reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. I suppose things will have to end on a cliffhanger-- such are the perils of posting things as you go, but I tried to end each chapter at a decent ending place just in case. Life just happened to get a little hectic, and by the time the dust settled, the thread of the narrative got away from me. I'm going to go ahead and mark this complete, as the work is definitely no longer in progress.
> 
> For those interested, I do give my blanket permission to continue on with the adventures of these weirdoes for anyone who wants to pick up the tale, with the caveat that you should totally link back here as an inspiration.


End file.
